Promises and Politics
by RubyandCarla
Summary: There are different kinds of promises; you can promise to help someone, to make a change, to do everything you can. When a gay politician goes missing, secrets are exposed, relationships are challenged and promises are made. But the most important promise you can make is to yourself, especially when someone else hangs in the balance. D/M fic, rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Collab between frostedgoddess and itaintpretty. **

**This is our first d/m multichapter fic so we are very excited! Apologies this chapter is a little long, hopefully you bear with us and we will try to make the rest shorter! **

**Warnings: this story will contain slash, OC's and angst. **

**Disclaimer: we don't own Without a Trace or it's characters! (*sigh*) **

**We hope you enjoy and if you so please do let us know! Reviews and PM's are lovely, so don't be shy! **

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Martin Fitzgerald hummed softly to himself as the lift pinged sporadically, passing each floor on it's way to the one he worked on. For the first time in weeks he had slept, really slept, and this left him feeling satisfiably refreshed. When the lift stopped and the doors opened at Missing Person's, he got out and strolled to his desk, still humming under his breath.

"Someone's in a good mood today!" Samantha exclaimed, watching her co-worker, who was currently whistling with an amused smile as he spun in his desk chair.

"What's not be excited about? No one has been missing for almost 12 hours. I got to sleep in!" Martin replied happily, though when he glanced over at Danny's empty desk his heart dropped like a stone. He sighed, but Sam-thankfully-didn't seem notice.

"Sorry to break your streak..." Viv said, coming into the bullpen with a file in her hand. With reluctance, she gestured toward the whiteboard.

A rather attractive man with gold-blonde hair and dark grey eyes smiled down at the agents from his position on the missing persons list.

"Jackson Fort; 32; went missing from his home at roughly 8am this morning," Viv started with the man's circumstances.  
"I feel like I know him from somewhere," Sam wondered aloud, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully.

Martin spoke up, only just able to find his voice. "Well you would, he's a gay-rights politician vying for councilship in New York state government. He actually has a decent shot at winning this year."

Sam made a soft "oh," as she made the connection. Viv nodded. Martin shifted in his seat.

Viv continued, "His boyfriend called it in, just a half hour after he was kidnapped. He claimed that he 'just knew' something was wrong."

Samantha and Martin exchanged skeptical glances. "Can anyone confirm that the boyfriend wasn't involved?" Martin asked, suspicious of this 'sixth sense'. In his experience, an inkling such as this one was usually more inclined to be a guilty conscience, rather than a telepathic connection.

"Are we positive something's happened to him?" Sam added. She looked at her two colleagues and shrugged."If he's in the middle of a complicated election, maybe he just bailed."

"Jack thinks we should be treating this as a possible kidnapping, what with the...ehm, controversy surrounding Fort's ideals."

Controversy was a generous term, Martin thought. For the last six months in the run-up to the election, Fort and his opponents had dominated every news channel in the state. The only thing which grabbed newspaper headlines more than his political ventures for gay rights were the personal consequences of these hopes he expressed. His house had been targeted by a group of religious nuts; his tires had been slashed multiple times; his mother had been verbally abused on the street by homophobic jerks for raising a 'faggot' who was 'attempting to tear apart traditional families as God intended.'

It wasn't a few people disputing his proposals, it was groups of people hating him for proposing them in the first place. It wasn't controversy, in Martin's opinion. It was just anger and hatred.

"The beau has an air-tight alibi," Jack spoke from behind Martin's shoulder and Martin moved aside to make space for the senior agent. Jack held up a computer disc."We just got this from a security camera across the street from Fort's apartment."

"And it begins again," Sam muttered as they all headed toward the tech room. She smiled at Martin.

But, this time, Martin didn't smile back.

~.o0o.~

They were gathered around the MIU technician as he pulled up the security footage.

A man clearly recognizable as Jackson Fort stumbled out of the apartment doors, clearly drunk or high or maybe even both.

Viv tutted. "You'd think a man so centred in the public eye would be a little more discrete."

"Everybody has to let loose sometime," Sam reasoned.

Not that the press or the other politicians would see it like that, Martin supposed. They'd probably just find some way to twist it to say that he was encouraging drunk driving-which would kill innocent families and children, of course-and casual sex, which would obviously lead to everyone having AIDS and all the churches in the world collapsing under the strain of global homosexuality.

Yeah, Martin thought. Seems like just the sort of shit they come out with at those debates.

Turning his attention back to the video, Martin watched as a silver van with dark windows pulled up, jerking slightly as it stopped. Jackson, too plastered to even register what was going on, blinked and stumbled along the pavement with his arms out like he was walking a tightrope. Then without warning, four men dressed from head to toe in black- complete with balaclavas-jumped out and grabbed him, dragging him into the backseat of the van. The snatch was over in a matter of seconds. There was no clear shot of the plates, or of the men's faces.

"That's not much to go on." Sam said, stating the bleeding obvious. Martin nodded in agreement and Viv pursed her lips in distaste.

"Martin, cover the traffic cams and put out an APB." Jack continued without waiting for an answer, "Sam, cover the political group he worked for and Viv, you're with me, we're going to go interview Mr 'I just know'."

"Anything else you need?" Martin asked when Sam left. Jack stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, and Martin felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. But then Jack looked away and Martin could breathe again.  
"Just.." Jack didn't finish, but Martin heard the underlying message. Just don't screw anything up.

"Sure thing," Martin said as Jack walked out. He pretended not to notice the pity-glance Viv shot him as she followed her boss out of the room.

~.o0o.~

"And you're positive the van was in your driveway all night?"

"What, you want me to take a picture?" the angry mexican man on the other end of the line demanded.

Martin pressed his hand against his forehead, rubbing the pain that was beginning to surface there. "Thanks for your help, sir." He hung up and sighed heavily. He hated being condemned to the office.

Of course, he knew why he was being locked away-in case he did something stupid. Jack was sick of Martin's actions making the unit look like crap. Which was rich, really, coming from him. But it was also why Martin took it so seriously.

When Jack Malone said you were being unprofessional, you knew you had a problem.

A problem which Martin had gone to great lengths to solve. He'd taken responsibility for his actions; he'd started attending NA meetings with Danny's encouragement; he was clean. And he'd been doing just about everything humanly possible to prove to Jack he was capable of staying that way; to prove he was capable of being the agent they all wanted-expected- him to be.

Apparently, Jack still wasn't buying it.

Crossing out Mr Garza's name from the list of New York citizens who owned a van matching the one on the CCTV footage, Martin caught sight of a picture pinned to the area around Danny's desk. It was a photograph of the two of them, taken at the Christmas party last year. Danny was wearing a Santa hat; they were both smiling.

Martin sighed again and shook his head. He wished things now could be like they were then. Now, when he caught Danny watching him, he figured it was because his friend- like everyone else- was expecting him to screw up. Back then, he could have convinced himself that all those subtle glances and pondering looks tossed his way were for a very different reason. He wished that Danny was back from visiting some distant relatives way out in Florida, this work would go down a lot easier with a dose of Danny's humour.

Picking up the phone again, Martin began to dial the number belonging to the next name on the list.

~.o0o.~

"Who's the guy?" Martin asked Sam, catching sight of a man sitting on the chairs outside Jack's office. Viv sat beside him, offering him a paper coffee cup which he took weakly.

"Fort's boyfriend, Sean Maguire," Sam replied, flipping through the records of Fort's main rival politician, Harry Pressler. "I swear, if Pressler paid as much attention to his wife as he does to trashing Fort during debates maybe she wouldn't have acted like a caged animal when I tried to talk to her."

"Tried?" Martin asked, still distracted by the man in the hallway who looked on the verge of tears.

Sam nodded. "I went down to the Town Hall but nobody's talking."

"Can't we make them talk?" Elena-who had only just arrived in work, having been late due to a meeting at her daughter's school-asked.

Martin resisted the urge to grunt sarcastically. It seemed Elena's understanding of the American legal and justice system was not as sparkling as he'd assumed.

"No judge would grant a subpoena without sufficient evidence that Pressler or one of his goons was involved," Sam said. What she didn't say, Martin noticed, was what they were all thinking. No Judge would go against an incredibly influential and well-respected figure like Pressler for the favor of a guy campaigning for the minority.

"Does Jack think the boyfriend is involved?" Martin asked.

Viv-who had left the man to his coffee and his tears and had entered the bullpen and took the seat beside Martin-shook her head. "He wants to be here in case we get any news. He's pretty shaken up by all of this."

"I don't blame him," Martin murmured.

Viv stared at him for a moment, and then she nodded. "Yes, well, he gave Jack a pretty long list of people he knows have it out for Fort, and an even longer list of people who he doesn't know by name for us to track down." She looked back at them, but Martin felt like she was just staring just at him. "Hopefully one of them will have the answers we're looking for."

"Are any of these...enemies likely to talk?" Sam asked, examining the list in question as Jack came out of his office and handed it to her.

"Only the guilty won't talk," Jack said and the others nodded their agreement.

They're all guilty, Martin thought.

~.o0o.~

Martin was in the photocopying room, doing other incredibly mundane tasks which Jack had placed upon him to keep him safely out of harms way.

On his way back, his heard soft crying. It took him a minute to identify it as coming from the chairs at the end of the hallway. Where Jackson Fort's distraught boyfriend sat, his head in his hands.

For some reason, this made Martin think of Danny.

He shook thoughts of his friend from his mind and slowed down as he approached the man. He looked at the fresh, untouched coffee in his own hand. Obviously, Maguire needed it more than he did.

"Here," Martin said, holding it out as an offering.

The other man looked up, his eyes red from crying. He blinked at Martin, like this sort of open kindness was foreign to him. Martin wondered what his story was.

"You look like you could use a strong cup," Martin explained. Maguire looked from Martin to the coffee again and then took it.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Martin stole a glance at the bullpen. Jack was nowhere to be seen-he and Elena had gone out to interview some of the other politicians, in the hope Elena's powers of seduction and Jack's gruff demand may be enough to coax them into talking. Vivian was with Van Doren, dealing with the savaging press downstairs. Sam was notifying Jackson's family.

He sat down beside Maguire. "This must be very hard for you."

The other man looked like he'd been up all night, dressed in sweats and a hoodie-the sleeve of which he now used to wipe his eyes. "Do you think he's okay?" He asked, turning to Martin. His green eyes were rimmed with sorrow. "Do you think he's alive?"

This wasn't the first time Martin had fielded a question like this from a victim's family. Still, it didn't make it any easier. "I hope so," he said honestly. "We haven't ruled out the possibility this may be a ransom. If that's the case, the people who took him won't benefit from hurting him."

"And if it's not?"

Martin looked at the floor. "Well, then we're going to do everything in our power to find him."

"Agent Johnson said that the subpoena was rejected by the judge," Maguire said, sniffing. "Is it because he's gay?"

Jack had gone ahead and filled for a subpoena to question and search the other politicians, regardless of how much of a long shot they all knew it was. Within an hour, they'd received an email from Anne Cassidy. I regret to inform you, Jack, it said. That your request was denied.

She hadn't given a reason.

She hadn't needed to.

Martin didn't say anything, suspecting Sean Maguire already knew the answer.

"I hate this," he muttered. "This sitting around, waiting."

"Maybe you should go home," Martin suggested.

Sean Maguire turned to Martin, the fire of someone who had dealt with being left behind before raging in his eyes. "Would you?"

"No," the agent admitted. Then again, that was a very hypothetical situation-he hadn't had a date since Samantha; he had food in his fridge which could last longer than his most serious relationships. Still, if it was a close friend, like Danny, heaven and hell would not be able to keep him from the people who could help bring him back.

"I should have just said I'd go to the stupid dinner with him," Maguire murmured. He shook his head. "I should just have told him I would, goddamit. Like I even give a crap what anybody thinks."

"What dinner?" Martin asked, trying to keep up with Maguire's scattered thoughts.

"This stupid get together all the stuffy old hand-shakers hold every year prior to the final stages of the election. It's supposed to promote unity and show they can all be civil, but it always ends up being an excuse to intimidate each other, under the watchful ear of the sneaky undercover press, of course," Maguire said, his tone bitter and angry.

Martin guessed he didn't fall in love with Fort because of his job.

"And Fort-Uhm, I mean Jackson was invited to this?" Martin asked.

Maguire nodded. "Everybody whose anybody is."

It reminded Martin of the sort of thing his parents would attend. "And Jackson wanted you to come along?"

Maguire nodded, plucking at a loose string on his hoodie. "Yeah. All the other politicians are going with their wives or whatever. It's all for show, you know. But Jackson said he needed the moral support."

"Why is that?" Martin asked, his mind racing with all the ways this dinner could tie into the investigation. "Was Jackson being threatened?"

Maguire blinked at Martin. "Do you live in a hole?" he asked. "Don't you watch TV, read the papers, check the headlines online? People are always threatening Jax."

Martin remembered then-this wasn't an ordinary case. Hatred and threats were at every corner of this guys life.

"Especially from our opposition." Sean continued shakily, "Some of them can get pretty worked up-letters; spraypainting 'fag' across Jackson's car; blowing up our bin; robberies."

"Pressler did this?"

"Not him directly, but I don't think he's completely in the dark about the work that some of his grunts have been up to. It's been getting worse lately because the election is coming up and we actually have a shot this year. Even I've started getting pretty graphic death threats."

"Is that why you didn't want to go?"

Maguire shook his head. "I'm not that naive. I mean, yeah, it makes me uncomfortable, but it's the way things are. They won't ever change."

Martin wondered how much bashing you'd have to endure to become so hopeless.

"No, it's because I knew there'd be tons of reporters there. I knew they'd take photos and stuff and I..." the man let out a long, shaky breath. "I didn't want my family to see me, plastered on the front page of the newspaper, holding the hand of some guy they've never even met."

"Your family don't know you're gay?"

Maguire laughed. "Nah, they know. Me coming out was the most dramatic thing that ever happened to my family." He ran his hand down his face. "It's just...they're not exactly accepting. I mean I think...I think my dad's coming round a bit, but my mom...it's hard, you know? Anyway, I didn't want to push things. I didn't want them to know about my relationship with New York's own Ellen DeGeneres until they'd come to terms with their relationship with me." Then, he shook his head and sighed. "I know it sounds dumb. And now, I wish I could take it back."

A thought struck Martin. "Why weren't you out with Jackson?"

"He said I was questioning our relationship. He said he was working so damn hard to win the election, to get rights for people like us, because he didn't want anyone to feel ashamed anymore. He said he's proud of who he is, and hiding our relationship isn't showing the honesty and acceptance he's trying to promote." Jackson's boyfriend started to cry again. "I called him selfish. I told him he was so blinded by the election that he couldn't see how hard all of this is to actually deal with. The last thing I said to him was that if we couldn't do things at my pace, then we weren't doing them at all."

His words broke off into sobs, and Martin was lost for words. He reached out to pat Sean's back, a reassurance, but then wondered what it would look like to people passing. He hated himself for it, but he was an even bigger coward than Sean was.

"I promise you," Martin found himself saying, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I will do everything I can to find Jackson."

And he meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Sorry this took a little while, guys! We will try to be faster in the future! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews and for following our story, it really makes our day like you can't believe! **

**Also;; very sorry for the lack of Danny! I'm afraid while he is mentioned more in this chapter it is still Martin-centric, but I promise you we are working on Danny's chapters too! There will be plenty from his POV, we just wanted to establish the MP and everything before adding him to the mix! Please bear with us on that:) **

**As always, please do review as we love to hear what you think! We should have the next chapter up in a few days and thanks again for reading!3 **

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It was a quarter past midnight, and the office was deserted. The only sound came from the hum of Martin's laptop; the only consistent light source shone through the glass walls of Jack's office.

Samantha and Elena had slipped out together sometime around eight thirty-claiming they now shared a babysitter in Elena's mother and obviously, it would be too much of an imposition to expect the poor woman to look after a seven-year old and a baby for the entire night.

Martin was a little surprised they had bailed so early, seeing as the case was high profile and they were already down an agent. But, he supposed, it's not like either woman had a partner in the picture who could step up and take care of their children. Still, Martin couldn't shake the lingering resentment that if this was a parent, a child, a runaway teen, anyone who wasn't competing in an election and promoting gay rights, perhaps they wouldn't have been so quick to leave.

He was probably just being paranoid, but he figured being so tired meant he was allowed to be a little irritated about the way the others were behaving.

Vivian was still here, though. Sitting at the table with Martin thumbing through the list of suspects they had yet to track down, circling any which she thought deserved further investigation.

"You can get off if you want," Martin offered her, for the fifth time tonight. He may have thought the others were being a little uncharacteristically slack with the investigation, but he knew Viv was treating this as serious as she would any other case. Besides, she looked tired and it was getting late. He'd been through the list several times already, he was more than capable of a final glance.

Viv gave him a small smile. "Two agents need to be here," she reminded him. "Normally Danny would stay, but with him in Florida, I guess that leaves me."

She was right, of course. It was unit protocol that when a case continued overnight two agents were required to be on-call at all times. Since New York was such a big city, and they all lived in separate sections of it, it was usually better for everyone involved if they stayed on the floor.

"Me and Jack can handle it," he insisted, and he watched as she ducked her head awkwardly and cleared her throat.

It took him a moment, but then he realised: when she had been referring to 'two agents' she hadn't been counting Martin.

His stomach sort of clenched and then dropped, like he'd been swiftly punched. Really? he thought to himself, even Viv thinks I'm useless?

Vivian looked up at him apologetically. "It's just, you and Jack, you haven't been getting along very well lately," she said, softly and with obvious sympathy. Martin just wished the floor would open up and swallow him-her pity was that depressing.

"Shouldn't we have called Danny?" Martin asked, trying to change the subject. "It's a high profile case and we need him here."

Danny would never make him feel like the incompetent child everyone else obviously considered him to be.

"You know, I suggested that too." Viv paused to look at him for a little too long, like she was debating Martin in her mind. "But you know Danny, he never really takes any time off. He's had a tough time lately, he deserves a break. Besides, how often does he mention any family, let alone visit them?"

Martin was still stuck on tough time. Had something happened to Danny he hadn't been aware of? Had he been that oblivious in his painkiller-induced haze that he had failed to see his best friend was struggling his way through a difficult break-up, a traumatic issue with his estranged and incarcerated brother, a painful case that stopped being a case?

Before he could stop himself, Martin was asking Viv, "What's going on with Danny?"

Viv looked uncomfortable-something which was rare for her. Martin was so accustomed to her just taking whatever was thrown her way without question. Now, she seemed so hesitant.

"You haven't noticed?" Viv finally said. "His behaviour lately. You haven't seen the change?"

Martin shook his head. Danny had been off with him for a while, obviously, because he was continually screwing up and Danny was perceptive enough to recognise a drug addict when he saw one. But since then...things had been okay between them. Different than before, yeah, but Martin guessed that was because Danny was still disappointed in him. And of course, Martin was battling feelings which weren't exactly encouraging a healthy friendship between two guys.

"Is-is he okay?" Martin asked, his throat suddenly dry. Danny had noticed when he'd been struggling, but he hadn't recognised the same signs in his friend. A thought struck him. "He isn't drinking again, is he?" Even as he said it, he wished he hadn't. Viv looked offended for Danny, and then she shook her head.

"Of course not," she said, her tone making this more of a scold than a disagreement. "No, he's fine. He just...he needed some time off. He was in that shootout too, remember."

The shooting? With Dornvauld? What did it have to do with anything? Danny hadn't been hurt. From what Martin had heard the moment he'd woken up and asked about his friend, Danny had escaped with a cut to the head and had been back to work hours later. Surely whatever it was that was troubling Danny wasn't related to that awful night.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Martin asked, figuring a sharp woman like Vivian would appreciate the bluntness of his question. Her smirk indicated that she did.

She shook her head. "It's something you're going to need to talk to Danny about, I'm afraid."

Martin sighed as he finished the last of his coffee. "Want another?" He offered, getting to his feet, hoping the walk might clear his jumbled thoughts.

~.o0o.~

Sometime around 7am Jack finally showed his face in the bullpen. He didn't have any news-although by now they had pretty much disregarded the possibility of a ransom-but he said he did have a plan.

"Care to share?" Viv asked, yawning.

Jack seemed to consider this. Then, he turned to Martin. "Go home and freshen up."

Sleep deprivation and over-stimulation thanks to large quantities of caffeine had begun to take it's toll on Martin, and, assuming this was Jack's attempt at an olive branch, he shook his head and offered up his most friendly grin. "I'm fine, Jack, honestly."

Jack, however, did not crack a smile. "It wasn't a suggestion," he said curtly. When Martin just blinked at him, Jack clapped his hands together. "Go on, get outta here. I want you in my office in an hour. Viv, let's take a walk."

Viv didn't hesitate to follow Jack out of the bullpen, causing Martin to wonder if she already knew more about Jack's 'plan' that she let on.

Sighing reluctantly, Martin grabbed his coat and braved the harsh cold. He'd checked the Florida weather forecast an hour ago, just to make sure there were no tropical storms ready to ruin Danny's vacation or delay his flight this weekend. The temperatures were twice what they currently were in New York and, apart from the occasional blast of thunder, all seemed to be idyllic for Danny. Meanwhile, it had rained for three days straight in New York and even though it was mid-March, Martin was wearing gloves and a scarf.

Now, forty-minutes later, he was riding the elevator to Missing Person's once again and preparing his panicking mind for whatever lecture his boss had planned for him today. He hadn't been out on the field once during this case and he had done exactly what Jack had asked of him in the office, so what it could be puzzled him.

Maybe Jack sensed he was uncomfortable on the case, and had decided to take him off it.

Martin could not think of anything worse. Because once he found out Martin was uncomfortable, it was only a small step to figuring out why. And then...well, then he'd be finished. Both personally and, when word got around to his father (and he was positive it would, because his luck was shitty like that) professionally too.

"Ah! There you are!" Sam said, startling him as he stepped out of the elevator. She was walking down the hallway towards him, a wide smirk on her face. "The perfect man for the job!"

Elena-who was two steps behind her-laughed too. "Don't tease him," she said, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief, mirroring Sam's.

"What's going on?" Martin asked, utterly confused, when Jack stepped out of his office.

"Martin," he growled. "Did I say my office or the hallway?"

Both the girls turned and headed back to the bullpen, still laughing with each other, as Martin followed Jack into the office where Viv was waiting, along with Van Doren.

"Agent Fitzgerald!" The latter said, getting up from her seat to shake his hand. "How have you been?"

Martin nodded and smiled and returned the sentiments, but the entire time he was thinking: Jack told her about the pain killers. I'm screwed. I'm finished. This is it-this is how my career ends.

"Martin," Vivian said. "Take a seat." She motioned to the one in front of Jack's desk, at which the other senior agent was already seated.

"What's going on?" Martin asked, as he ducked his head under Jack's glare across the table. He hoped his voice didn't portray the anxiety he felt.

After a long silent pause, Van Doren laughed. "Well, Jack, don't keep the man in suspense!"

This doesn't seem like a legitimate way to fire someone, Martin thought.

Jack nodded. "Right, well, Martin, you realise our case has, at present, no real leads to speak of, don't you?"

Martin nodded. So this was about the Fort case.

"Well, we need you to go undercover."

Martin's head snapped up. "W-what?" he blinked. "Me? Undercover?"

Jack stared at him blankly. "That's what I said."

"Of course, it's your choice," Viv added.

"Although, naturally, you wouldn't want to let the FBI-and your team- down," Van Doren said, and in Martin's mind he heard Jack's voice add 'again.'

"You'll be posing as a representative of the Family Research Council from D.C," Jack continued, not waiting for an answer. "With the election coming up and now Fort missing, hate-groups are seizing the opportunity to protest and band together in order to protect whatever they believe to be tradition. We want you to infiltrate the group and alert us to anyone you think might be involved with Fort's kidnapping."

Martin felt a strange heat flooding his chest, a sense of pride he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. Jack had chosen him- sure he was the only available agent at the moment without a dependant or a partner but still, he was going undercover. He wished Danny was here to share the triumph with but at the same time, he was glad there wasn't someone else- a near perfect candidate- that Jack could've sent in his place.

"You'll be posing as anti-gay," Viv cut in. He could feel the weight of her stare behind him, heavy with doubt as it burned into the back of his head.

She didn't think he could do this.

Martin's heart sped up and his palms felt damp. Did she... know? No, no way. She couldn't. No one else had ever noticed...had they?

Martin shook himself. There was nothing to know. He was straight, goddamit. Martin Fitzgerald liked women. Tall blondes who didn't over-complicate things. Maybe his taste did not meet his father's standards for what he wanted Martin's potential wife to be, but that didn't mean there was something wrong with him.

Besides...it was just an act. A façade. It was for information, to bring an innocent man home, to help his colleagues. He was doing what he had to do, for the sake of the job. He had a duty to his work, far greater than his duty to his own feelings.

So what if he wasn't 100% comfortable? All that mattered was that they found Jackson Fort, one way or another, and that the bastards who took him payed for what they did. All that mattered was that Jack would trust him again; Vivian would stop treating him with kid gloves; the others would respect him as a fellow agent, not just a junkie confined to the office because the real world was too much for him to handle.

Beyond his duty to the team was the promise he had made to Sean Maguire the previous afternoon: I will do everything I can. He'd meant it then and he was determined to see it through. Whatever the cost.

"I'll do it," he said, his words coming out in a rush. Jack leaned back in his chair, and Martin's almost fell of his when the older man sort of...smiled.

"I knew you would." Picking up his office phone, Jack began pushing a pattern of numbers and then held the receiver up to his ear. "I'll make arrangements," he said before the person on the other end picked up.

A firm hand on his shoulder startled Martin. " Agent Fitzgerald, no doubt your father will be pleased to hear you didn't let the side down." With her reassuring words as a parting gift, Van Doran wished him good luck and excused herself.

Jack spoke into the phone now, deep in conversation with someone Martin probably didn't know. Through the glass walls, Martin could see Elena and Sam drinking coffee at the group table, still laughing over something. He remembered how happy for him they were earlier, how they obviously saw the importance of this opportunity to prove himself.

"Martin," Viv said softly. "You don't have to do this."He turned to look at her, surprised by the small frown on her face. Was she...disappointed? He turned back at Jack, who was still preoccupied on the phone. Why wasn't Viv as proud of him as everyone else? Didn't she understood this went beyond a simple task for him? It was his last chance to prove himself. Why couldn't she see that as clearly as he could?

"I'm fine," he insisted defensively. This wasn't an optional assignment for Martin; he couldn't say no to this. He was sick and tired of everyone behaving like he was a problem of the highest degree; the weight dragging the team down; the elephant in the room. In the early stages of his recovery, Martin had promised himself he would do anything to get his dignity back, and even if this case proved difficult for him, he was certain it was the opportunity he had been hoping for.

He stood up, his body so much lighter now that he had been given a second chance.

Martin was determined not to screw this one up.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews, they mean so much to us, especially when you compliment our writing and this story! **

**This chapter was a little more of struggle haha but we got there in the end! It's our longest so far (we get carried away and don't like to break things up when we don't have to, apologies!) but hopefully the next one will be shorter so you can forgive us(: **

**oh, and definitely bear with us, the next chapter will be Danny POV! I know, you're thinking 'Finally!', right? **

**Enjoy and let us know what you think! :) **

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Four hours later and Martin had been briefed, re-briefed, fitted and re-fitted with a wire now tucked away under his sleeve. "Obviously, you shouldn't wear that all the time," a tech agent reminded him, like he was some rookie who'd just walked in off the street.

"Don't contact us," Jack told him. "We'll contact you sometime tonight."

"We'll have someone watching when we can, it shouldn't be too difficult with cops controlling the protests," Viv added.

"I have been undercover before, you know." To be honest, Martin found their concern belittling and just plain insulting.

"We're just making sure," Viv said, resting her hand on his arm. "It's protocol."

She was right, of course, but that hardly made Martin feel any better about it. He tried to remind himself why he was doing this, aside from proving himself-to keep his promise to Sean Maguire.

Unfortunately, Martin Fitzgerald had never been too good at keeping his promises.

~.o0o.~

The vast majority of the protesters were staying at the Hilton during their time in New York, something Martin was sure must be a ridiculous mistake. What sort of people treated an election and a kidnapping as a luxury vacation?

As he checked in under the alias supplied for him by the Bureau, he looked around the highly decorated lobby. The floors were shining; the lighted chandlers were blinding; the entire room was exquisite and extensively stunning. He was used to hotels like this-had stayed in many when traveling with his family as a kid, but he was always surprised by the sheer beauty of them anyway. A place for everything and everything in it's place and all that. Martin envied that sort of structure.

He stole a glance at the other check-in desk, the tall priest-complete with dog collar and loyal followers- signing a piece of paper the woman manning the desk handed him.

"You'll be keeping the noise down, won't you, Father?" the receptionist asked him, obviously something she had to take into account when allowing controversial guests to stay at such a highly regarded hotel.

"I swear on my Lord's name," he said, a hint of a southern drawl in his voice. He smiled widely at the woman, and she nodded. "I'm just tryin' my very hardest to serve Him and to stop others from disobeying Him. I ain't here to cause no trouble."

But just by being here you're causing trouble, Martin thought, but he bit his tongue.

The receptionist did not seem particularly interested, shooting him a small smile and then returning to her frantic typing.

Martin couldn't help but wonder how much of the congregation's funds this modern-day Saint beside him had wasted on this hotel, the meal he had booked for later, the flights, the entourage. Did he even care? Or was naive and vulnerable people's money nothing in comparison to dictating how strangers lived, and loved?

"Room 401, Mr Cavanaugh," a voice said, and Martin waited just a second too long to turn his head. "Enjoy your stay."

"Uh, thanks," he said, taking the room key and the curious look the receptionist gave him with a gracious smile.

~.o0o.~

Martin collapsed onto his single bed and unpacked, expecting he would be here for a while. He then got out an itinerary of where Mr Pressler would be tomorrow and with whom. Martin would introduce himself as Matt Cavanaugh, a representative from an anti-gay group. He didn't have much of a plan yet as to how he would get on Pressler's good side long enough to decide if he was directly involved in Jackson's kidnapping, but he figured he'd come up with something.

Of course, Danny would've known a way, and even if he didn't, he would make an adorable joke and Martin would forget about this case for a while, what with Danny's gorgeous accent and his eyes, the way they watched Martin intently and like he was something special...

"Goddammit! You're straight, Martin!" He said aloud, and then he shut his eyes tight. Maybe Martin was questioning his sexuality, but Matt wasn't. Matt was 110% straight, inside and out, and he would never be so weak as to be tempted by an alluring voice or a kind smile.

Matt was exactly who Martin needed to be right now.

~.o0o.~

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, his jacket was wrinkled and the sun was gradually going down on New York City. He didn't feel refreshed; instead, he felt like he'd had the life sucked out of him. Exhausted, Martin got out of his hotel bed and showered, shaved and put on his suit, wire and tie, preparing to mingle with the other protesters over dinner or drinks downstairs. He smiled as he remembered Sam and Elena coming to his house when he was packing and choosing the clothes he was allowed to take on his mission. Their excuse was,

"This is politics, you'll be on TV and you can't break into a secret kidnapping ring looking like a colour blind panda."

"Panda? What?"

Sam had rolled her eyes at Elena's choice of words but now she turned on Martin.

"Just go with it, we know what we're doing."

He sat back as they packed for him.

Martin was secretly glad they had done this for him as he was a little tired of being picked on for his fashion sense, to him all colours could be worn together, but other people had special rules regarding colors. Rules that he had never been able to understand.

Martin picked up a tie he did not even know he owned, one that looked more like something his father would wear. With that thought in mind, he quickly swapped it with another, one he actually remembered buying.

He wondered if his father knew about this undercover stint. Martin couldn't imagine his father would like it, especially not if he knew it had been Jack Malone's idea. The term 'unresolved issues' did not quite cover the older FItzgerald's relationship with Jack.

Although Martin didn't really understand why his father seemed to treat his boss with such disdain, he also knew better than to question either man about it. Some things were just better left uncovered.

~.o0o.~

"Did you hear what he said at the last debate? That gays are being victimised and stereotyped. Can you believe that?" It was a rhetorical question, one nobody at the table decided to answer.

"It's a complete joke. That...that lifestyle of theirs, it puts all the Church stands for to shame," A young woman next to Martin agreed. Martin took a long sip of wine. He was considering playing a drinking game with himself: take a sip every time someone mentions God in relation to marriage equality. Order another every time someone makes a hypocritical statement. Buy a whole bottle when they link homosexuality and the devil.

"I have so much love in my heart, as a man of God," the priest from earlier chipped in. "It's because I love my brothers and my sisters that I refuse to stand by and allow them to damage their relationship with our Lord."

Most of the table murmured their agreement. Martin just nodded, feigning interest. Two hours in, and he was already about to crack.

Listening to the way these people talked about Jackson, and LGBT individuals as a whole, made Martin's skin crawl. It was so self-righteous and bigoted and just plain fucking ignorant-but of course he wouldn't dream of telling them this. He was one of them, after all. Or at least he had to pretend to be.

"Have you ever been to a pre-election March before, Matthew?"

Martin blinked at the man who asked him. His name was...Paul? He was a member of some religious organisation from Philadelphia. He had blonde hair and sea-green eyes, a wide white smile and lips that looked the texture of satin; he looked like a male model, some guy from the magazines Elena sometimes read in the office. He was good-looking, Martin supposed, but the only thought that really followed this was: he's no Danny Taylor.

"Uh, no," Martin cleared his throat-thoughts of Danny usually made him a little disorientated. "Actually, this is my first year."

"You'll love it," the woman beside him-Helen?-said excitedly. "It's such a friendly atmosphere. You can really feel how people from all different states have bound together for the sake of their fellow Americans."

Martin remembered hearing about the same march on the news last year-the arrests, the near-rioting, the hurtful signs these exact people held up. He remembered a day later, a teenage boy in Brooklyn was found hanging in his closet, having left behind a note that said 'I'm sorry I can't be normal.' Martin wondered if that kid had felt the love of an extended church family who wanted to prevent him from making mistakes, or if he'd walked past the protests and thought I will never be accepted by these people. Martin wondered if Jackson Fort saw these people as friendly, when they were slashing his tires and smashing his windows; when he opened the hundredth death threat to come through his letterbox; when he stood up to make his last speech and had to have twice the typical number of security officers on the stage with him. When they were bundling him into the back of a van.

"All I heard from Fort was how gay kids are so scared to come out. But how about what we're scared of?"

"We're scared of our innocent children growing up in a world where that type of behaviour is normal and accepted, a large step away from what tradition teaches," another woman said.

You're scared of change, Martin thought,and then, it hit him...I'm scared of change.

But of course Martin didn't say this out loud. After all, he was the biggest coward of them all.

~.o0o.~

His group from Seattle took a later flight in, meaning it was morning before Martin got to meet them. He wasn't sure what they'd been told about him, but he decided to play along anyway.

He'd expected a bunch of picture-perfect Christians to greet him in the conference room after breakfast; carbon copies of Helen and Paul and the priest. Instead, he was introduced to Lucy, Chris, John, Jesse, Brooke and Kevin. Chris and John belonged to a youth group which worked with the Family Research Council. Jesse and Brooke were a middle-aged couple with matching sweaters that said: We love you, but your choices offend our hearts. Kevin was a single father who introduced his teenage daughter Lucy, while she was busy drawing on her Converse in purple Sharpie.

"Mr Cavanaugh! How is it we have never met!" Brooke gushed, completely ignoring Martin's outstretched hand in exchanged for a hug.

"Uh," he muttered, backing away when she finally released him. "I've uh, been very busy..."

"Well, we are thrilled to have you as our representative for this occasion! We were awfully concerned when we heard Dylan, our usual leader, had been struck down with that terrible flu! We thought we'd have to decide between us who would take over, but then we got off the plane and they told us you'd already arrived-we were just elated!"

Most of the others agreed, laughing and smiling like they weren't taking a break from making pickets with slogans that read Homosexuality is a sin, Every child deserves a MOTHER and FATHER and Stop child molesting; protect your children. Vote NO for FORT.

"Um, well, I'm glad to be here," Martin said, although this was lie. He had barely slept a wink last night, knowing full well what was in store for him today. In fact, at least two hours had been devoted to persuading himself to call Danny and then hating himself because he couldn't think of what to say. Hey Danny, guess where I am? Sup' Buddy, how's Florida? It's Martin here, do you miss me? Once, he had even managed to force his fingers to dial Danny's cell number, only for him to drop the phone as though it was a burning piece of coal before the first ring.

"Lucy, why don't you show Matt what you made," Kevin suggested, then he turned to Martin. "Oh, you don't mind if we call you Matt, do you?"

Martin shook his head. What was one more lie in this ridiculous farce?

Lucy pulled a large sign across the desk. She flipped it so Martin could read the Slogan easily: Gay Love is not Real Love.

Something snapped inside of Martin. "We're not using that," he said sharply, and then wished he could hit himself for it. This wasn't personal; this was for the missing person, the team. He had to pull it together. He had to get over this stupid grudge he had against these people. The stupid grudge he had against himself.

"And why not?" Kevin demanded.

Brooke sucked in her breath. Jesse put his hand on her shoulder. John and Chris stared at each other. Lucy looked confused.

"I knew I should have went with 'God hates fags,'" she mumbled.

Martin took a deep breath. Come on, be a professional. "Well," Martin-no, Matt said with an easy smile. "It obviously isn't big enough."

~.o0o.~

While his group befriended fellow protesters- a particularly unnerving family of anti-gays, who held signs with things like 'God has taken Fort as a gift to us' and 'Don't stall the election for our enemy'- Martin volunteered to go buy some water for everyone. It was a silly excuse, but they were much too busy listening to The Charming Tales of Christian Hatred to really notice how desperate he was for an exit. What surprised him was that Lucy decided to come with him.

"You know I got this covered," he told her as they dodged the mob outside the Town Hall to get to an actual street.

"And you know Brooke has water bottles in her bag," Lucy countered. Martin almost smiled. It looked like he wasn't the only one who needed an escape.

"Are you even old enough to be at this sort of protest?" Martin asked, just as he caught sight of twin toddlers wearing shirts that had the LGBT flag and a black line through it.

Lucy shrugged. "It's not like these things have actual age limits. Besides, I've been going to this type of thing since I was a kid."

Must make it pretty hard to have your own view on the issue, Martin thought.

While they stood in line at a street vender, Lucy told him about how her Dad brought her to her first protest when she was four. And how, every year since, they'd attended ones all around the country together. This year, it happened to be New York.

"You're what, fifteen?" Martin asked. "This can't be how you want to spend your time." At her age, he would be shipped off to stay with his Aunt Bonnie every time a free weekend appeared on his usually education-oriented calendar. He might not have had much time to relax and play video games like most teenagers, but at least he wasn't being dragged to hate protests and told what he should do and say-even if the latter was an underlying and unspoken condition of growing up in the Fitzgerald family.

Lucy bit her lip. "All those Christians aren't the only ones who don't like tradition broken," she said. Something about what her words, the way she hadn't listened to the religious rantings as attentively as the rest of the group...Martin had to wonder if this girl even belonged to a church. But if she and her father weren't religious, why would they care so much about gay rights?

A man's shout startled Martin. "OhmyGod," Lucy said, and Martin turned around to where she was pointing.

A few feet away from them, a man with a rainbow painted on his face was harassing a tall, slender man carrying a briefcase. It looked a heartbeat away from becoming violent. Martin looked around, but all he saw was colour; this was the LGBT side of the protesting. Either the people here did not like the suited man, or they were all incredibly oblivious.

FBI-instincts kicking in, Martin jogged over to the two men. He pulled the smaller man back just as he attempted to throw the first punch. Dodging his own beating as a result, Martin tried to push him toward the rest of the crowd. "Come on," he said, "It's not worth it."

"Matt!" he turned back to see Lucy at his side. "Are you okay?"

It had all happened so fast, Martin hadn't realised he was bleeding until he licked his lips and tasted blood. He looked back at the LGBT supporter and, upon closer inspection, realised the guy had obviously had a few too many to drink, despite the fact it was only 8am. He was now being hand-cuffed by two police officers.

"I'm fine," Martin assured Lucy, who looked torn between concerned and in complete awe.

"You are so brave," she said, but her voice sounded small and carried a note of disappointment.

"Indeed you are," another voice said, and Martin looked up to see the man with the briefcase smiling at him. "And you are correct, too. This cause certainly isn't worth it."

But that wasn't what Martin had meant. Was it?

I know him from somewhere, Martin thought, and then it clicked. This...this was Harry Pressler.

"I owe you my gratitude," Pressler continued, straightening his tie. "My security are useless the vast majority of the time. I don't even know where they are at this present moment. Probably preoccupied smiling for the cameras."

The reporters. Martin had almost forgotten this place would soon be overrun with them. Today, a judge in Washington was expected to make an announcement regarding whether the election would be put on hold while Jackson was missing.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know your name," Pressler said, holding out his hand. Martin blinked, certain it wasn't this easy to befriend a possible suspect.

He took Harry's hand and the fierce but friendly shake was enough to prove his concerns to be mute. Perhaps he was in, after all.

"Matt Cavanaugh," Martin said, finally finding his voice. "I'm from the Family Research Council."

Harry nodded, a smile settling on his face. "Is that right?" He turned to Lucy. "And who is this?"

The girl did not answer him. She simply blushed and looked to Martin. "This is Lucy," Martin introduced. "She's the youngest member of the group we have here today."

Lucy did not look exactly thrilled by this introduction, but she didn't say anything.

Harry smiled wider. "Isn't it fantastic to see young people getting involved?" he asked.

Martin nodded. "Oh, absolutely," he agreed.

Pressler stared at him for a moment and then looked at his watch. "Well, Mr Cavanaugh. I better be going. But perhaps you would be interested in joining me and a small number of my party for an intimate dinner tomorrow night?" He glanced up at the Town Hall. "I can only hope we will have something to celebrate."

"I would be honoured to, Mr Pressler," Martin said, but the words tasted like betrayal on his tongue.

"I will have my secretary call you with the details, then," the other man said. "I think I have a significant proposition for you."

Martin did not particularly wish to know what this significant proposition was, but it didn't matter. He'd gotten himself an opportunity to observe Pressler in action, mingling with associates. Jack would be so proud when he told him.

As he watched Pressler leave, he felt Lucy tug on his sleeve.

"That guy gives me the creeps," she murmured, shuddering for effect.

Martin considered lying, but then he figured Lucy was probably the only one in this mess that could be trusted. She was just a kid, after all. He nodded. "Me too," he admitted.

Tomorrow night he would have dinner with Pressler and, hopefully, find out enough about his rivalry with Fort to at least warrant a subpoena. But he still had an entire day and a half of pretending to be someone he didn't want to be before then.

Maybe he deserved to hear Danny's voice after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

**Thanks for continuing to read and review our fic! We're so happy you guys are enjoying reading it! Also, yay, a chapter from Danny's POV! Thanks again for bearing with us on this!**

**As to Cathy's comment about the timeline of things...yeah, apologies for that. The comment about Sam's baby was something we meant to fix but forgot about in the hurry to post a new chapter. I'm sure you appreciate these things happen when writing long chapters and it wasn't a huge error so we hope you can forgive us! As the chapter has been posted and all we won't be changing it. It likely won't be relevant again, but this fic is set late season 5, you are totally correct on that! However, as this is sort of taking on what some may call an AU-style mind of its own, if you prefer you can just believe that we chose to disregard cannon. But like I said, it probably won't come up again anyway! **

**Also, in this chapter there are three references to a specific Taylor Swift song. Just see if you can see them all and guess the song :)**

* * *

_He was in the car with Martin, Adisa was in the back but that hardly mattered to him and Danny felt like he was flying. The case was moments from being over, all that they needed to do now was sign the man in the backseat over to the prison guards. He'd just gotten a call from Jack to say Viv had come out of surgery and was going to be fine. As though all that wasn't reason enough to be cheerful, Danny had dinner plans with the man of his dreams._

_Sure, it wasn't an _official_ date, but the hesitance in Martin's voice when he agreed, the sweet smile they shared just seconds ago when Martin had stopped the car at the traffic lights, told Danny that maybe the other man wasn't as oblivious to his feelings as he had once thought._

_Maybe it wasn't officially a date, but that didn't mean it wasn't the start of something bigger than friendship between them._

_If they hadn't had a suspect in the car at that moment, Danny may have even made a move right then. He had never felt so sure Martin Fitzgerald was exactly what he wanted until today._

_Lost in these thoughts that were consumed with Martin, he only turned his head when he heard the sharp click and bang of doors opening._

_Before Danny knew it, the first shot had been fired._

_It happened so fast, he didn't have time to think or act; he could only watch with wide eyes as Martin tried to ram the gunmen, then reversed hastily at Danny's horrified pleas. All the time, shots were ringing out, glass was shattering, Danny's heart was lodged in his throat. Their car was soon crashed sideways into another._

_Getting ahold of himself, Danny opened his door and cowered behind it, letting the painted steel take the brunt of the bullets. He fired off a few shots, hitting one of the hitmen in the leg. Dornvald jumped back into the van, shadows closing over the face now burned into Danny's mind forever._

_Dashing back to the van, he saw Martin. Blood drenching the front of his white shirt, Danny could not take his eyes off of the wound._

_**Blood. Too much blood.**_

_Shock marred Martin's usually handsome features and his blue eyes fluttered closed. Moving on pure adrenaline, Danny dragged Martin out of the car and laid him down on the cold, black street, taking a moment to sweep his gaze over the other man's pale face. Digging tissues out of his pocket, Danny pressed down on the gunshot wound, watching in horror as the blood of the man he loved bubbled up, red and hot and sticky, between his fingers._

_Then he was in a hospital, whitewash halls stretching for forever either side of him, he entered the door that stood ajar to the left and Martin was lying in the hospital bed, blue eyes open and watching Danny move from the door to the bedside and clasp Martin's hands in his own. Danny opened his mouth and told Martin how much he loved him, because of course that is the type of thing you tell someone after a life or death incident._

_Martin smiled and so Danny leant forward and kissed him. Suddenly a loud, long beep sounded and doctors ran in through the door to swarm Martin's body, pushing Danny down onto the vinyl floor._

_In the blink of an eye, he was at work going through credit card bills when Jack put a coroner's report on his desk. Danny flipped it open, felt sick to his stomach...felt what was left of his heart shatter._

_Fitzgerald, Martin_

_Cause of death: DANNY TAYLOR_

_Danny looked back up at Jack but it wasn't Jack anymore, it was Martin, blood seeping through his shirt and worms crawling through his face._

**_"How could you?"_**

~.o0o.~

Sweaty sheets were wrapped around Danny Taylor's long legs as he struggled against the demons that only he could see. He awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat and panting like he had just run a marathon. He tasted bile on his tongue and his hands were shaking- Danny frantically rubbed them on the duvet, paranoid they might still be covered in Martin's blood.

It took him a good minute to remember why he wasn't in his own bed and why there was no bright lights outside his window; why the New York traffic was replaced with soft foot traffic and an occasional train horn. He wasn't in his Brooklyn apartment. He was in his cousin's condo in Florida.

Danny checked his bedside clock to see 6:36am glaring at him, lighting up the dark guest room. If he were at home, he'd be chugging down his second cup of coffee right now. Danny stood, the boxers he had slept in soaked through with sweat and sticking to the back of his thighs.

In the shower, Danny let the hot steam come close to suffocating him before turning the notch down to a lower setting. The stupid dream was nothing new; he had similar ones almost every night since the shooting. Every time Danny came close to telling Martin how he felt, a dream like that one would plague him. A dream where he had been gutsy enough to admit his feelings, only for him to lose Martin anyway.

Maybe it was a sign. Martin was better off not knowing, and being alive, than being aware of how Danny felt and becoming worm food.

That seemed to happen to a lot of the people Danny dared to love.

Logically, Danny knew there was no such thing as curses and bad luck. But when it came to Martin, he wasn't about to risk jinxing him. Danny wasn't sure he could take another night in a hospital waiting room alone and terrified.

Throwing on clothes that were much too heavy for Florida weather, Danny made his way down the hall and began preparing breakfast for his second cousin, Michael. He had somehow been tasked with looking after the kid while his parents went to 'reconnect.'

At the very least, Danny figured it would take his mind off Martin.

~.o0o.~

Danny smiled absentmindedly at his young cousin who grinned in return as he sat on the couch creating a love story between his two dolls as the theme to SpongeBob Squarepants blasted from the television in the corner of the small room. After almost an entire fortnight babysitting the young boy while his parents went on some much-needed date nights, the federal agent was just about ready to assassinate the animated sponge and his idiotic pink friend.

"Hey, Mitch?" Danny joined the small boy on the faded seat. The boy glanced up then back down to his dolls who were about to be wed.

"Yes, Uncle Danny?" The four year old was now paying attention to his older relative, his toys held loosely in each hand.

"Can I watch my show on TV since you're busy?"

Mitch frowned and shook his head.

"But you're not even watching! Please!" the agent whined at his cousin. Danny noted that Mitch was starting to rub off on him and he needed a break from his holiday, even if it meant just watching the New York news for a few minutes to see what had been going on in his city.

"No! I need to know how Patrick got really smart after he fell off the cliff. And also if he and SpongeBob will be friends again when they fix him up!" Danny was shocked at the level of concentration that the boy had been paying attention to his cartoon as well as dictating a romance epic starring G.I. Joe and his female counterpart.

"_Come on_! I haven't watched anything I want all week!" Danny knew he sounded puerile and petulant but he was going stir crazy, like a golden retriever kept inside. Mitch turned to Danny, his hazel eyes swimming with tears. Danny was shocked; his cousin didn't seem the type to cry when he didn't get his way.

"I...I don't like the bits where people get hurt. Mommy doesn't make me watch the news be-because I get sad."

Danny felt horrible. He didn't blame the kid; the news was freaking depressing. Always another riot, another natural disaster, another killing.

"It's fine! SpongeBob is good." He now understood why Michael always refused to watch 'Uncle Danny' on TV; he was only on TV when someone was missing.

After a few minutes, Michael winked at Danny and said "I need to put my dolls to bed, you can do whatever it is that you like!" Danny shook his head at Mitch's antics as he watched the boy practically skip into his bedroom.

Danny found the remote behind a crocheted seat cushion and switched from the cartoon to the news. A familiar redhead smiled serenely at him and began her news story.

"I'm here at New York town hall where Harry Pressler, among other contenders in our state election, have openly challenged the absence of their opposition's leader, Jackson Fort. A debate, scheduled months ago, will be starting momentarily. A senior member of Fort's party will be debating on his behalf, while we anxiously await a verdict from the Judge as to whether the election will continue or not in Fort's absence."

Absence? What kind of idiot just took off in the middle of an election? Not that Danny paid much attention to this stuff, but he'd thought Fort had a pretty good chance of winning this year._ I guess the drama got too much for him,_ Danny thought, remembering the news reports of the increased levels in anti-gay crimes of late.

Because this was a public debate-to show how much the people's opinions mattered (yeah, _right_)-a handful of the most refined protesters were allowed into the room. Most of them were too busy listening intently to cause any drama, but some held small sat quietly, but all the same, there were easily fifty security officers surrounding the stage.

Danny watched as the debate began with the usual remarks of; "They will make our children gay" and his personal favourite, "If we allow gay marriage, it will result in small animals being raped." He rolled his eyes and laughed out loud at the utter ridiculousness of their accusations.

Still, deep down, Danny couldn't pretend their words didn't matter to him. He didn't care what these narrow-minded strangers thought of him-the fact that they had an opinion on him at all simply because of his sexuality was enough to highlight what complete idiots they were, but it was far more than assumptions and over exaggerations and plain lies-it went farther than that. It was about acceptance and rights that he was being denied, even if they weren't all that important to him right now.

Some day, Danny might meet someone who actually wanted to be with him, and it sort of sucked that if that person happened to have a penis, they weren't allowed to get married, adopt kids or be each other's next-of-kin without spending years petitioning for it.

A single face drew his attention back to the screen.

Martin. His eyes flicked to camera, making the Cuban man blush as Martin's blue eyes met with his brown - even though he was on the other side of the country, the piercing gaze always made him lose his train of thought. He sighed heavily- Martin was gorgeous, it really was too bad that women thought the same thing and Martin seemed to return the sentiment when it came to them. Take Samantha, for instance.

Then Danny's mouth dropped open. Why was Martin at a debate anyway? He wasn't interested in politics...or was he? Danny had only been away for fourteen days, how much had changed about his best friend in that time?

The blood ran cold in Danny's veins.

Martin was standing on the right of the hall.

In the front row.

Behind Harry Pressler.

Beside him was a young girl who held a sign that read, "_Gay love is not real love_."

Danny read it three times, certain this was some sort of sick joke. Maybe Martin had stumbled in here by accident; maybe Martin was directed to the wrong side of the room; maybe there was a perfectly innocent explanation that had nothing to do with homophobia.

He felt his heart tighten in his chest as the girl leaned over and whispered something in Martin's ear. Martin smiled widely at her, then they both proceeded to clap as Pressler stepped down from the podium. His eyes were shining with something Danny recognised as pride.

_Straight pride._

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No." Danny felt tears burn at his eyelids which were currently shut against the onslaught of his best friend and long-term crush standing with the political party that seemed determined to take away his rights to marry the man he wanted, whomever that would be. Previously he had fantasized it to be Martin; that blind hope was now replaced with brokenness and betrayal.

He couldn't watch anymore. He hit the 'Off' button on the remote control and fired it across the room, not caring where it landed. He buried his head in a couch cushion and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself small enough to fit into the space those bastards in New York wanted him to.

* * *

**The comment 'if we allow gay marriage it will lead to the raping of small animals' is a real comment made in Australia parliament **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: thank you guys so much for continuing to follow this story! :) More Danny this chapter (angst ahead) so please let us know what you think! **

* * *

It surprised Danny how well he managed to function when he felt like he'd been stabbed through the heart with a jagged blade. He felt that Martin's face was still shining with pride somewhere in his peripheral vision; he had done more double-takes today than he could ever remember.

He played two rounds of a video game with Mitch; he cooked a frozen pizza for lunch; he took his cousin's terrier Jasper for walk around the block. But the entire time he was picturing Martin's smile behind Pressler, his clap of support, that teenage girl's sign which carried words that Danny would never be able to unsee.

He was angry. No, it was more than that. He was _furious_. How could he have been so stupid as to think Martin would ever return his feelings? Martin was straight. But it was more than that, Martin had straight pride. How could he have trusted a man capable of such prejudice so easily, so openly? Why did he let himself believe that Martin Fitzgerald would be any different than the large list of other people who had let him down over the years? _You wanted it so much, you overlooked the sign_s, his conscience whispered.

As furious as Danny was, he couldn't make himself hate Martin.

Because Martin hadn't been pretending. Martin hadn't been hiding feelings or imagining a connection that didn't exist. Martin was being exactly who he always was. Martin was being the son of the FBI's deputy director. Martin was doing what was expected of him.

Danny blamed himself.

Martin's family had always wanted him to go into politics. Perhaps, while Danny was gone, they'd finally gotten through to him and with their awe inspiring influence they could've gotten him into any political group that they wanted.

~.o0o.~

"We're home!" Vanessa, Danny's cousin, called as the front door swung open. Jasper began to bark as though his life depended on it and ran in circles excitedly. Mitch ran into his mother's embrace with a wide smile.

Two years ago, Vanessa had friended Danny on Facebook and messaged him. He remembered her vaguely, she was his mother's sister's kid, ten months younger than him. They would play together a lot when Danny's parents were still alive.

Vanessa's mother had wrestled with a heroin addiction all throughout her life. When Danny's parents died, she was barely in a fit state to care for her own child, let alone her sister's troublesome sons. Constantly being shipped from foster home to foster home made it difficult to keep in touch, and eventually Vanessa and his aunt became nothing but a hazy childhood memory.

After exchanging a few emails and phone calls, Danny began to bond with this relative he barely knew. It turned out she'd gotten married young and had her son soon after. Her husband, David, worked away a lot so they didn't get to spend much time together. Danny put off her suggestions of a visit to Florida for a while before caving in and offering to look after Mitch for a while.

He figured she deserved a break, considering her mother had OD'd just before Christmas.

Now, as he watched David and Nessie pepper Mitch with kisses and affection, he was filled with warmth that almost, but not_ quite,_ took his mind off the fact his best friend was not at all the person he wanted him to be. He may not have enjoyed being back in Florida, the humid conditions and unruly thunderstorms was nothing in comparison to the painful memories of love and loss this state brought back to him, but he was supremely glad that he had been able to help out a young woman who clearly needed a break.

But it was time for him to leave now.

Twenty-four hours later, Danny stood on the front doorstep, suitcase on one hand, halfway out of the gleaming sun, he felt tempted to drop his case, fall to his knees and beg to Nessie to let him stay, and never ever leave.

He hadn't slept a wink all night-all he could imagine was returning to New York. Martin might have left the team to chase his father's dreams for him; his desk empty and a rookie standing at the door, in the same way that Martin had so many years before. Danny couldn't imagine he would like Martin's replacement at all. They wouldn't be funny like Martin, or have that astounding lack of color coordination or sneak lasting gazes at him with those devastatingly blue eyes.

But what if Martin hadn't left? Then his heart would break every time his eyes landed on his partner, never being able to look at this man he considered his best friend without knowing that their working relationship would never be enough for him; never being able to confide in Martin about dates with other guys, if that ever happened; things would never be the same between them.

Danny never wanted to go back. But he had to. New York was his city and not even Martin's homophobic tendencies could keep Danny away from the city he loved so much, or the job he had dedicated his life to. Maybe New York didn't seem like the biggest comfort in the world right now, but at one point in his life, it had been. That didn't change just because Danny was incapable of establishing boundaries in the workplace, or because Martin was no longer attainable. He would rather be in his own apartment, dreaming about eyes that had let him down, than in his cousin's guest room gripped by nightmares of a childhood he'd sooner forget.

No, dreams of Martin-even if they did revolve around the shooting-were favourable when compared to dreams of his parents and his brother and the years he spent alone in foster care.

He was better off in New York, at work, keeping busy to keep his mind off of Martin's betrayal.

Danny just hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to stay out of Martin's way.

~.o0o.~

The TV in the departures lounge was switched to a news channel. Danny wondered why a New York Politician dodging a debate was suddenly decided as crucial to all the people of America, but he figured maybe the debate in itself was important enough to warrant the constant replays.

Still, it felt a little like cruel and unusual punishment to him.

His earlier reasoning that he was the only one to blame had slowly vanished in the two hours he had been in the airport. He'd gone into a newsagent to buy something sugary enough to take his mind off flying, but the newspapers that were positioned on every shelf had images of some stupid protest that had taken place earlier yesterday. Of course, Martin had managed to be a part of most of them, holding a picket sign in his hand that Danny was glad had been blurred out.

It didn't matter what it said, really. Because there was a quote above it, in bold lettering. It may have been taken from Pressler's speech, it might have come from another protester...Danny didn't know, and he didn't care. All he needed to know was that the journalist putting the article together had tied a picture of the man he loved to support a quote that read: "[Gay] People make this choice for themselves; why should our children suffer molestation as a result?"

Danny had known he shouldn't read such hurtful articles, but they weren't just empty words spoken by some old guy trying to win over the state ahead of the upcoming election. Instead, they were words that Martin-the man who died in Danny's arms almost every night- obviously saw truth in.

'Gay-bashing,' as it was called by the media, was something that had always frustrated Danny. As a teenager, coming out had not be an easy process, especially on the tough streets of Hialeah. After the first round of beatings, Danny had tried to convince himself that his feelings were a result of raging hormones and the desire to feel wanted, needed, _loved_ by someone-to hell with their gender. Sometimes he still wondered if his traumatic upbringing had affected his life in more ways than his sexuality.

It wasn't until Danny was safely in New York, in his own one bedroom apartment and struggling to make the rent working his first real job as a bartender in the evenings after class, that he allowed himself to really reconsider what his_ type_ was. It was months later, after sleepless nights and numerous prayers and countless attempts to drown his feelings in a whisky bottle, before he worked up the actual courage to act on his urges.

It hadn't been easy-he'd had his share of hatred over the years. But in a way, he'd been lucky. Back when he came out, Danny didn't have to worry about violence and religious nuts and the protests that lined the streets every time an election was even mentioned.

Burying his head in his hands, Danny's eyes stung with tears. No, Martin's didn't deserve his tears. He'd cried enough over that man, it was time he stopped making excuses for the people he loved: his mother, his father, Rafi. He'd wasted too much time and too many tears on those who had let him down. They weren't worthy of the pain Danny could never seem to forget.

Still, when Danny shut his eyes for long enough, images swimmed across his subconscious: crystal blue eyes, dancing with laughter; that laugh, that warm infectious laugh; the lips that formed the most beautiful smile Danny had ever seen, the lips his dreams had once been of kissing. But it wasn't just the way Martin looked that made Danny's heart race. There was so much more about Martin that Danny loved, too many things to mention. His dedication to his job, his way with victims, his determination to serve their team. He was kind and smart and he cared. Maybe he didn't always say the right thing and sure, he was human and he made mistakes.

But at the end of the day, he'd been there for Danny when no one else had. The nights they'd spend together, late in the office eating take-out and trudging through mountains of paperwork, the long talks that hadn't amounted to anything at the time but had meant the world to Danny, those moments spent together, in the car, feeling like nothing in the world would replace the feeling of being inches away from someone who had changed your life so irrevocably...those moments have all been real. To Danny, at least.

Or had he just_ wanted_ them to be real? Had he, in his weakest moments, been so desperate for a connection with someone that he had imagined it in a place where it wasn't? Had he left himself open and vulnerable to pain, in exchange for a few naive moments of fleeting happiness?

He thought of the way Martin would look at him sometimes, the subtle touches, the lingering smiles...there was no way the other man was completely unaware of his feelings. Had he..._manipulated_ Danny? Had he just enjoyed having someone fall for him, hook-line-and-sinker?

Was this all some sick Fitzgerald game? A joke? A _bet_? The entire time...Martin had been thinking what a dirty hitch in God's great plan for the human race Danny was. The entire time, Martin had been resenting Danny for his feelings. Maybe even pitying him, because he was pathetic enough to believe someone as fucking fantastic as Martin Fitzgerald would ever be interested in _him_?

Rage bubbled inside Danny: that was it. He was done. Finished with Martin fucking Fitzgerald. He didn't need a man capable of such preposterous beliefs about tradition in his life. If Martin didn't approve of Danny's sexuality...well, it would be too painful to remain so close with him, fearing his friend would find out-if he didn't already know- terrified of what it would do to their professional relationship. No, it was much better if Danny just distanced himself now. It wouldn't be incredibly difficult-since the shooting, things had never been the same between them anyhow. Danny was shielding Martin from the embarrassment of having to admit that he was straight, and he was shielding himself from the inevitable rejection.

It might hurt at first, but Danny would get over it. He didn't really have a choice, did he? He was just paying the price for letting himself be vulnerable-really Martin hadn't done anything wrong. He would just have to do what he had done when someone close to him fell short of his expectations: endure.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update, real life has begun to catch up! Thanks for the continued support, you guys are truly the sweetest reviewers either of us have ever had! You definitely keep us encouraged! **

**Onto the chapter, Martin POV this time (yay for Fitzie) and of course this is angsty. Don't worry, it won't be long until Danny and Martin see each other again! (in case this isn't angsty enough haha)**

**Enjoy, darlings! x**

* * *

"A dinner date? That's the best you could do?" the voice that greeted Martin on the end of the line held nowhere near the amount of pride he had hoped to hear from Jack. "I went out on a limb sending you undercover, and all you've done is-"

He was cut off by Vivian, who obviously took the phone from him. "We saw you on television yesterday," she said, but even she sounded a little disappointed in Martin. "What on earth where you _wearing_?"

Martin rolled his eyes-something he probably wouldn't have done had she been able to see him. Viv wasn't the kind of woman Martin would ever want to cross. "What Sam and Elena told me to wear," he said.

"I barely recognised you." Her words felt like ice water to his face. Martin wondered if it was intentional; if she really _did_ know about his constant sexuality woes. It wouldn't surprise him, really. She was incredibly perceptive.

"Isn't that the point?" Martin countered, and then he jumped when someone knocked on the door of his hotel room. "Look, I gotta go, Viv. I'll check back with you guys later."

"Well, good luck," Viv said, sounding terribly unimpressed with him. Until that moment, she had never once reminded Martin of his mother.

Ending the call and tossing his cell on the bed, Martin hurried to the door. He wasn't expecting anyone-his group had gone to dinner without him, he'd assured them he really had to prepare for dinner with Pressler. Still, when he opened the door, he wasn't all that surprised to see Lucy standing in the hallway.

What did surprise him was that she looked like she'd been crying.

"Lucy?" Martin said, looking up and down the hallway, hoping someone else would appear and take control of this situation. Yeah, again with the shitty luck. "Are you alright?"

_Really_ dumb question and wow, Lucy must be desperate if she was coming to _him_ for reassurance.

She ducked her head so her dark hair-had it been tied up earlier? Martin couldn't remember-fell loose around her face. "Can you...um, can we talk?"

He was pretty sure letting a teenage girl into his hotel room while undercover was absolutely not a part of his job description. What would Jack say? What would this look like to Lucy's father?

Positioning himself in the doorway as dominantly as he could, Martin shook his head. "Lucy, I don't think that's a good idea."

She looked up at him, her eyes wild and wide and filled with a hurt that reminded Martin of what fifteen felt like. "_Please_," she said, her voice small and fragile, like a precious pearl on a cheap thread. "I don't have anybody else to talk to."

Martin found himself sneaking a glance at his watch. Pressler's secretary had called him an hour ago, assuring a car would be sent to the hotel to pick him up around six. It was currently 5:03pm.

He felt a pang of guilt as he heard Lucy sniff. "Where's your dad?"

He watched as she laughed, bitterness and anger apparent in her expression. "I can't talk to him."

And that might have been how every teenager in the entire country felt about their parents, but Martin could still relate. He knew what it felt like to live a life cast in the shadow of his father; he remembered the harsh reality of those teenage years when you realise, hard as try, you will never measure up. He had first hand experience with letting people down.

He doubted anything Lucy had done in the three hours since he'd last seen her, laughing with her father and the others', could ever compare to the succession of ruin he had built up over the course of his lifetime.

But that didn't mean he wanted to be just another adult who dismissed her.

Sighing reluctantly, Martin held the door open. "Ten minutes," he said. "And then I'm calling your dad."

He had never been good with kids-he had two nieces, who he saw on Christmas' and sent presents to on their birthdays. They were cute and well behaved as far as he knew, but he had never spent more than a few hours with them at a time. He wasn't all that close to his sisters-they were older than he was and lived close to his parents, whereas he couldn't wait to get away.

He managed okay with victims and witnesses, he supposed. Usually, though, if there was kid around the office, it was Danny who would deal with it. His years in foster care, his way with people, his genuine liking of children meant he was always the first port of call when a traumatised kid or terrified teen needed questioned or talked down.

Compared to those kind of skills, Martin would always be inferior.

"Lucy," he said, watching as she sat down on the bed and bit her lip. "What's going on?"

He didn't sit, was too busy wondering if perhaps she felt as uncomfortable as he did.

"You know how my dad hates gays?" Lucy said, staring hard at the white carpet.

Martin felt something uneasy build in his stomach. He didn't like where this was going.

"Uh, yeah?" he said, and when she looked up, he found himself adding hastily, "I don't think he _hates_ them. Just, uh, you know. Their...relationships."

He cringed inwardly. That wasn't the way these people talked, was it?

"Why are you here, Matt?" Lucy asked, and it seemed like his words had pulled her from her train of thought.

"Uh, this is _my_ room, so..."

"I mean: why are you leading our group? Why are you attending the protests? You're not religious. I can tell. So what's your deal?"

There had to be other reasons for attending these protests that did not include God. Of course, in that moment, they all vanished from Martin's mind.

Only one other possibility stood out, one he couldn't possibly admit to Lucy: _Denial_.

"Couldn't I ask you the same thing?" Martin asked, pasting on what he hoped was his friendliest smile.

"I'm here because my dad's here," Lucy replied, folding her arms. She eyed Martin up and down. "What's your excuse?"

_Shit_. "I have traditional values."

"That's a lie."

"Don't act like you didn't lie too." She looked up, an eyebrow raised as if to challenge him. "You come all the way to New York and attend hundreds of protests because your dad does. But you expect me to believe you don't attend church with him?"

Martin knew there was a big difference in attending church and actually believing in something, but it turned out this seemed to make Lucy crack. Huh. Maybe he was pretty good with words.

Well, _sometimes_.

She was silent for a few minutes, and then she spoke again. "When I was three, my dad came home from work to find my Mom in bed with my pediatrician."

"Oh," Martin said, suppressing the desire to grab his cell and dial her father's number. This seemed like a matter for a qualified and pricey family counsellor, not an undercover FBI agent simply attempting to regain the respect of his colleagues. "That sucks. Maybe I should-"

"The doctor's name was Emily."

_Oh_. Martin looked at the floor too, hoping to disguise the blush on his cheeks. "Ah."

"That night, she left. She said she'd come back for me, once she and Emily had a jobs and an apartment in the next town over, but she never did." Lucy's voice hitched in that horrible way someone's does when they're close to tears and they don't realise it. She picked at a loose thread on her cardigan sleeve, like pulling it would unravel the entire thing and all she would be left with would be a pool of red yarn. "That was the first time I remember my Dad saying anything homophobic."

It was starting to slot into place with Martin. Kevin didn't hate homosexuals: he hated his wife-for leaving him, for leaving their daughter.

He was punishing an entire community- no, not a community. Individuals. Individuals with lives and dreams and loves all their own. He was stereotyping, tarring innocent people with the same brush as the woman who had broken his heart. He was doing it all to get back at Lucy's mother for the hurt she had left behind when she fell in love with another woman.

"He wasn't always like this, you know. He used to laugh all the time. Now, all he does is swear and get angry when I ask to have my friends sleep over." The young girl looked at Martin, eyes filled with an innocent naivety he couldn't imagine he had at her age. "Do you ever think: maybe we're taking all of this a little far? They...they're just people."

What was he supposed to say? Of _course_ the whole thing had been taken too far. There was a fine line between opposition and hate, and it had been crossed years ago.

"You're not like everyone else here. You question it too- I can tell."

It looked like Lucy was more perceptive than he'd given her credit for. Maybe she was just a teenage girl, but she was a damn smart one.

With a smile, Martin shrugged. "I question the methods."

Lucy looked down at her hands. "My mom doesn't wanna see me. I looked her up on Facebook a few months back. She said she was so happy to talk to me again, that we should meet up and re-connect...but then she saw my pictures."

She didn't need to elaborate. Martin could imagine they were similar to the ones currently plastered across the front pages of all the local newspapers.

"It's not your fault," he said, more for himself than for her. "You're just doing what you have to, to keep your dad happy."

"But that doesn't make it right," Lucy countered. "Or at least that's what she said, right before she said she didn't think it was a good idea if I visited her this summer after all."

Martin felt a pang of sympathy for Lucy. To be honest, her mom didn't sound like a huge loss in the parent department anyway, but he knew that didn't ease the sting of rejection.

He knew that very well, actually.

"Lucy, I'm sorry." Martin gave in, sat down on the bed beside her. "But...why are you telling me all this?"

She looked up at him, and Martin wished he could unsee the hope in her eyes. "Because," she said, voice dripping with admiration as she looked at Martin like he could fix everything that had ever gone wrong. "They'll listen to you when you tell them to stop."

~.o0o.~

Martin was late for dinner with Pressler, of course.

By the time he'd shooed Lucy from his room with promises of talking to her father-what he would say to Kevin, Martin had no idea at all. He hoped he wouldn't be here long enough to have to fulfil this particular promise- he was left with only minutes to get ready. Thankfully, the car Pressler had sent to the hotel waited, but the driver did not hesitate to give Martin a stern lecture on his tardiness.

"May I help you?" the restaurant hostess asked Martin, eyeing him up and down like she was trying to decide if he was really deserving of eating in such a fine place or not.

"Uh, I'm here for a...a dinner with Harry Pressler."

The hostess raised an eyebrow briefly, as though she was doubtful Pressler had such mediocre taste in acquaintances. Then her eyes fluttered to the open reservation book in front of her. "Name?"

"Mar- uh, Matthew Cavanaugh." He did his best to disguise his slip-up with a deliberate cough.

The woman looked hesitant for a moment, but when she found his name on the list her expression changed to display a wide smile. "Of course! Right this way, sir."

She led him through the restaurant-much, much bigger than Martin imagined and perhaps one of the most extravagantly designed restaurants he had ever been in. As he passed the tables, he kept his head down, on the off-chance he ran into a friend of his. He thought he saw Danny out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head that way and found himself face-to-face with a pockmarked, pale Mexican who _definitely_ was not Danny.

"Sorry!" Martin apologised for the collision with the Hispanic.

"No problem. Mr Cavanaugh, please sit here." The man forcefully grinned as he gestured to a seat at the table nearby and Martin resisted the urge to run away from the terrifyingly bulky man.

"Ah, Matthew, good to see you!" Harry Pressler stood up to greet him- his grey hair styled carefully back against his head. Dressed exquisitely in a suit crafted by a designer Martin probably couldn't pronounce, he graciously clasped Martin's shoulder in a friendly greeting that did little to ease Martin's nerves.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, sir!" Sitting down, on the right hand side of a man who would certainly not be talking to him if he were able to read minds, Martin had never felt more disgusted with himself.

"Please, call me Mr Pressler," the man said, a grandfatherly smile on his face that somehow made Martin feel even worse about the situation. "You were truly an asset yesterday."

Martin nodded, unsure of how to field such a compliment. He held up a menu, suddenly needing a barrier between him and the politician.

"Do you have a job, Matthew?" Pressler's words sounded anything but the casual small talk Martin had imagined would surround this evening. This didn't sound like a harmless question...it sounded like...a _proposition_. Martin looked up from his silent debate between fish and steak and shook his head.

"Um, I was fired from my last job because my...male boss tried hitting on me and I wasn't comfortable." He was glad for this backstory supplied by Jack, he didn't know if he could've thought up something on the spot.

"The gay sickness," Pressler nodded knowingly. "I'm glad you weren't infected."

Martin shifted uncomfortably, praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that Pressler would not notice how physically painful this scenario was. "I'm thankful for the way some of the smaller protest groups have taken me in."

"Forget them. I would like to offer you a position on my security team," Pressler folded his hands together. Martin was shocked, he was hoping to be a hang-on of Pressler's supporters at best, after a handful of dinners similar to this. A security guard would be even better, and to have the offer before the appetizers had even been served was beyond Martin's highest hopes for the night.

"I accept!" He said, far too quickly and more than a tad too enthusiastically.

"You don't want to know what it will entail?" Pressler had a small, curious smirk on his face, as though Martin was his shiny new experiment.

Martin realized it was a bit suspicious accepting a job without knowing what it was."What is the position?"

"My head of security has been fired recently,." Pressler said casually, as though he wasn't talking about ruining some man's career. "The position is yours if you want it."

The whole thing sounded shady at best-who hires a head of security without asking for a CV, a resume, even enquiring about previous experience? Moreover, who hires a head of security after meeting them..._once_?

"It's a temporary post," Pressler added, as if he could read Martin's thoughts. "Simply until I can find someone more permanent to fill the position. And of course, until you head back to Seattle." He shrugged, obviously sensing Martin's confusion. "Desperate times, and all of that."

Oh. Right. Matthew was supposed to live in Seattle. "I would be honoured." Martin gushed, biting his lip from voicing his concerns about what a terrible idea this was.

"Splendid. We have another debate tomorrow, I expect you front and center."

Martin's stomach did a little flip. He hadn't realised he'd be starting quite so soon. Still, the sooner he finished with this shit the sooner he could get back to sorting out his _real_ life.

"Of course," Martin assured Pressler, trying very hard not to blush when his new 'boss' raised his glass in a toast to Matthew, his brand new security guard.

~.o0o.~

When he was dropped off at the hotel later that night, his first dash was for the shower- a desperate attempt to cleanse the false persona from his body. The pressure on high, so for split seconds at a time Martin could pretend he was drowning; the temperature up as far as a hotel shower was expected to go. He waited until his skin was red and raw, until the steam in the bathroom was affecting his breathing, until he had lost another hour of his life, before stepping out of the shower.

He still didn't feel clean. He wondered if he ever would again.

The entire night had revolved around the most despicable and disgraceful comments imaginable. He'd listened to quotes from the bible that didn't mean to him what they seemed to mean to everyone else at the table; he'd heard gay people referred to in the most politically incorrect way, a surprise considering he was obviously the least politically aware at the table; he'd watched in paralysed horror as a member of Pressler's entourage spat in the face of a waiter who he claimed was 'over-friendly' and then forced himself to bite his tongue as the restaurant manager yelled at the _employee_ for causing a scene, while the rest of the restaurant pretended not to notice.

After a night like that, he felt physically sick. His hands were shaking with the effort to suppress his anger.

What gave them the right to _treat_ people like that? To talk about them as though they were a disease, slowly targeting the population in an attempt to destroy the earth?

What did it matter who people they would never meet fell in love with? What difference did it make to Pressler, to his family, his rich friends?

When had love become such an atrocious crime that warranted shame and being targeted by politicians?

To make matters worse, every time they criticized a homosexual relationship, it felt like a chisel to Martin's heart. Leftover hope of a pathetic fantasy he had promised himself he had let go of long ago faded from his mind at their words- the possibility of a life with Danny Taylor vanished right in front of his eyes.

They could never be together. He had known that all along, of course, but hearing it from the mouths of strangers somehow made the realisation so much more painful to come to grips with.

Martin would never find the courage to come out, and even if he did, the stain it would leave on his life would be unimaginable.

His parents would probably never speak to him again- if they survived the shock, that is. He'd be the eternal disappointment, the son they were ashamed to speak of, the runt of the litter cut off from the family he didn't deserve to be born into.

Jack would surely never look at him the same, either. He and Jack had never had a fantastic relationship, but his boss cared about Danny- almost like a father cares for his son- and that had always been obvious to Martin. There wouldn't be a chance in hell that Jack would ever see Martin as good enough for Danny.

Besides, he was sure that Jack would seize the opportunity to move him to another unit. Hell, for all he knew Jack might even find a way to dismiss him from the FBI altogether. It wasn't that he deemed Jack Malone particularly homophobic...rather that he knew he was already on very thin ice, and a homosexual relationship with a colleague was probably crossing the invisible line of tolerance.

Vivian...well, she probably wouldn't care. Still, her acceptance would be nowhere enough to mask the disgust of everyone else in their lives.

And that if Danny was foolish enough to even _want_ a relationship with Martin.

Until tonight, Martin hadn't realised just what coming out would subject them to. What kind of person was brave enough to leave themselves wide open to such treatment?

_One who thought their love was worth the honesty._

The problem was, Martin wasn't-nor would be ever be-worth the kind of life Danny would have if they were together. All the people he'd seen at the protest yesterday, the LGBT community, they were proud and they were happy and they were united in their demand for the rights they had earned as human beings.

Danny could have any one of them, any one of a thousands of men or women in the world who would love him and be proud of that love and who would never dream of asking him to hide it.

Why would Danny choose someone like Martin, whose biggest fear was being found out to be the fraud he really was?

Who wanted a boyfriend who would feel uncomfortable holding hands in public, who would be paranoid of being judged at the grocery store, who would never stop seeking the approval of his parents long after they had extracted him from their lives?

The answer was, of course, no one. Or someone as cowardly as Martin himself.

Danny Taylor wasn't a coward. He was one of the bravest people Martin had ever met.

It didn't really matter if there might be someone out there who would willingly accept Martin's phobia of his sexuality being exposed. All that mattered is that person wouldn't be Danny Taylor.

With a sickening feeling of injustice and defeat, Martin lay down on the hotel bed and shut his eyes so tight they hurt.

He wasn't sure if he could do this anymore.

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**A/N: The 'sickness' reference comes from another ridiculous concept dreamed up by the Australian Gov in relation to LGBT rights.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you guys once again for all your lovely reviews! I hope you like this chapter-you do have Danny's POV to look forward to next I think! **

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The room was still dark when Martin forced his eyes open. He rolled over in the hotel bed that felt much too big for just him. The red light from the digital alarm clock made him squint.

5:23am.

He groaned. He could go for a jog, he supposed. Pick up some fresh coffee and maybe a bagel...

But then he remembered. He was still undercover, still pretending to be someone with beliefs he found detestable, still seeking the approval of anyone and everyone in the hope of redemption.

He wasn't supposed to meet Pressler for the debate until this afternoon. Lucy, Kevin and the others wouldn't be heading to breakfast for hours yet.

That didn't leave Martin with a lot of options.

He didn't want to stay in this room, this hotel, with these people whose group he no longer wanted to be a part of. Being here was simply a reminder of the person Martin didn't want to be.

No, he'd made his decision.

Martin might have been a coward and a hypocrite, but when he made himself a promise, he stuck to it.

~.o0o.~

He'd actually missed coffee from a machine. It surprised him, as he lifted the polystyrene cup to his lips and took another sip.

The office was practically deserted, but then he had been the only one with a real drive to solve this case.

Of course that last thought wasn't necessarily accurate or fair, but Martin figured that enduring the last few days had earned him the right to resent the others.

He took a seat as his desk, lounging back on his chair like he didn't do enough. This job, it had been much more than a job to him for a long time now -it had been his life. This team had become his family, his only real friends. He had belonged to the FBI for far too long-so long, in fact, that he barely remembered who he was without his badge.

It was time to take a step back. To untangle himself from all of it.

To find himself again, even if he wouldn't like the results.

He had already resigned his mind to the fact that Jack would flip out when he told him he was pulling out of the undercover work. Still, Martin felt somewhat at peace with his decision. He might be ruining everything, but at the very least he was staying true to himself.

But then Viv walked in, folders in hand.

"What are you doing here?" they asked each other in the exact same moment.

"I work here," Viv said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's your excuse?"

_Tell her, _his brain willed. But the words...they somehow caught in his throat. "I-I needed some quiet time."

"The Hilton wasn't relaxing enough for you?" Viv was her usual sassy-self, of course, but she seemed much less curt than she had on the phone the previous afternoon. Perhaps it was the pathetic sight of the man in front of her that had softened her.

Martin forced a weak smile. She sat down beside him, glancing at the newspaper she'd sat between them and reaching for it.

But before she could hide it from him, a picture of the front page caught his eye.

It must have been taken at the protest a few days ago. There he was, between Kevin and Brooke and the other members of their group, holding the picket Lucy had made.

It made Martin feel physically sick. How many other people had seen this picture? What kind of monster did he look like?

"We can have your face blurred out of future pictures," Vivian offered, but was no comfort to Martin, who buried his face in his hands.

"I can't do this."

"It's just a few pictures, no one even recognises you in those clothes-"

"-it's not about the pictures," Martin looked up at her, wondering if she had known it would come to this all along. "The whole thing. I just...can't."

The look on Viv's face lead Martin to believe his assumption was correct. This was no surprise to her. She had known Martin wasn't strong enough to handle this, even if he himself had not wanted to admit it.

"How was the dinner with Pressler?"

Martin didn't want to answer that, so he just shook his head. "I never should have agreed to this."

"You wanted to fix things," Viv said. "No one can blame you for trying."

"Jack can, and he will. It's just the _hatred_ in these people- it's toxic, Viv."

Vivian nodded knowingly. "Martin, you shouldn't take it personally."

Tears of defeat, anger and pure disappointment in himself began to blur Martin's vision.

"I-I can't handle it, Viv. I just...I-I'm out of my depth this time."

What he couldn't bring himself to tell Viv was that being Matthew Cavanaugh made him loathe himself in a way he hadn't since high school. It was like this stupid undercover role he was playing reminded him of the person he could have been-the man who cared about politics, the man his father would be proud of. It just drew a striking parallel to the life Martin could have lead if he hadn't broken away from his parents dreams for him.

Vivian looked a little surprised. "It's not like you to..."

Complain? Admit defeat? _Screw everything up_?

Yeah, _right_. As though that sort of thing was really out of character for him- he almost burst into sarcastic laughter.

"Martin, why is being around those people so difficult for you to handle?"

_You know why, _he wanted to scream.

He should lie to her, he knew that. He should dodge the question, change the subject...any one of the number of ways that would deflect the real answer.

Martin couldn't remember the last time he had properly cried- he supposed it must have been the early days battling his way through his addiction. Right now, he wished he could go back and tell himself to ignore what everybody else told him to do and just give in, because life without the pain killers was just too damn hard.

But when he shut his eyes, he saw the waiter's face the previous night when he was being yelled at by his jackass boss because of an accusation based purely on a lust for power and homophobia; he saw the offensive pickets, heard the ridiculous comments that made him sick to his stomach; he thought of Lucy, who would always be held responsible for her father's idea of revenge.

Now, he sat in the bullpen, sniffing like the pathetic idiot he was. He couldn't bring himself to lie to Viv, but he was much too weak to admit the truth, so what was there he could really say?

He managed to meet Viv's eyes for a moment, before guilt caused by the concern in her eyes pulled his head back down.

"I don't like seeing you like this, Martin," she said with a frown, her tone motherly and genuine- but it still didn't make Martin feel any better. "You should speak to Jack. He can pull you off this case."

Which was the reason he had come to the office this morning in the first place, wasn't it? Viv was suggesting exactly what Martin wanted.

But Danny wasn't due back for another two days. And in that time, the others would be under an insane amount of pressure, especially as this was a high profile missing person. They wouldn't be able to send another agent undercover with the same hope they had with him...his withdrawal from the situation would jeopardize any further investigations into the circle. Another stranger showing up would look suspicious to Pressler and the others.

Besides, it would take weeks for someone else to get to the point Martin had; it wasn't like Pressler was taking applicants for body guards.

And what about Fort's boyfriend? Martin had passed Sean on his way to the bullpen- the man was asleep on the chairs outside Jack's office, unshaven and in the same clothes he'd been wearing when Martin had last seen him- four days ago. Had he even been home? Or would that make things even harder, going home to an house too big and too quiet for one just person?

Where was Jackson Fort now? Was he tied up in some basement, having the 'disease' beat out of him by Pressler's buddies? Had he been given food or water in the last six days?

Was he even alive?

"I can't do this," Martin said, pressing his thumbs into his eyes so hard it hurt.

"I can talk to Jack for you, if you want," Vivian offered.

He let out a little laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Not the undercover stuff. All of it, Viv. This job, the politics involved. I just _can't-"_

His voice broke off, and he covered his eyes with his hands- a desperate attempt to hide his tears.

"Is this about your father?" Viv's voice was assured, like she already knew the answer.

He hadn't let himself dwell too much on it, but this ran deeper than sexuality insecurites. His parents hadn't wanted him to go into politics to fight for equal rights, to find his own voice, to develop his public speaking further than a few high school debates. They had wanted a politician for a son to fix all the things they were too proud to dirty their hands with.

They didn't want an admired son with a dazzling career; they wanted a puppet on a string to control and show off to their high class friends.

Martin had known this all along, of course. He wasn't completely naive- but knowing it and admitting it were two very different things. They didn't care about him, not really. They cared about how _he _made _them _look.

Yet here he was, well over ten years later, still seeking the approval of two people who would simply never view him to be of the standard they had hoped.

It frustrated him that he was stupid enough to care what they thought about him. At his age, he should be long past needing his mother and father's approval.

But he just..._wasn't_.

Maybe it was nothing to do with them. Perhaps it ran deeper than that, perhaps it was more to do with meeting _someone's _standards. Maybe deep down, Martin Fitzgerald just wanted to please somebody, to make even one person proud of him.

Jack was a lost cause in this department- Martin could never redeem himself from the mess he'd made in the last few months. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was true.

The only thing Martin could imagine would make Danny proud of him would be to stay clean, something that was becoming increasingly less likely with every passing day. He couldn't bear to let Danny down, of everyone, so it was easier to pretend his opinion didn't matter.

He looked up to find Viv looking at him expectantly. She knew. How long had she known? It didn't really matter, Martin decided. The point was, she had known and he hadn't noticed.

She had known, and she hadn't treated him any differently.

He couldn't be honest with his parents, with his boss or with his best friend. But Viv...even if she would never understand how he felt, she would sympathise. She would be honest and she wouldn't just tell him what he wanted to hear. She would reassure him and then when he was done crying his way out the tunnel of embarrassment, she would crack a joke or tell him to get his shit together; she would kick his ass into shape herself if she needed to.

She would care, and she would be proud, and she wouldn't expect anything in return except honesty.

An honesty he himself deserved.

"Viv," he said, his voice coming out more of a rasp than a whisper. "I-I think I'm...bisexual."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! Like I mentioned before we're both back to school now so writing is difficult but we'll get there! Thanks for bearing with us! **

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In Florida, it had been easy for Danny to tell himself that time would heal the wounds left behind by Martin's betrayal. On the plane back to New York, he had himself convinced that loving Martin was something he could stop any time, just another addiction he could independently kick.

But then he arrived at the office and watched through the glass walls around the bullpen as Martin buried his face in his hands, hiding his tears, hiding his shame for something Danny didn't quite understand.

As it turned out, he was failing miserably with his plan to forget his feelings for his friend.

Listening to Martin Fitzgerald sob- even if he couldn't really make out what he was saying to Viv- tore Danny apart inside. In that moment, it didn't matter that Martin was homophobic; it didn't matter if he'd exploited Danny's love to make himself feel better; it didn't matter that his actions, plastered on the front of newspapers, ripped all of Danny's highest hopes to shreds.

All anger, all resentment, all hurt disappeared, replaced with only concern. Was Martin okay? Was it an argument with Jack or his father? A case gone horribly wrong?

Or was it much worse than that? Could it be- and he hated himself for even _considering _this- that Martin had resorted back to his _own _addiction?

Maybe it was the jet lag, or his sleep deprived mind. Regardless of the reason, in that moment the only thing that really mattered to Danny was that Martin Fitzgerald, his best friend, obviously needed help.

Danny had let his friend down before and he would never make those same mistakes again. Post-shooting their relationship had went to hell for a long time; Danny spent months trying to pretend he didn't realise Martin was falling deeper and deeper into the bottomless oblivion of his painkiller addiction. Because, at the time, it had been easier. Because Danny hadn't wanted to draw attention to how he himself was coping. Because he had enough guilt surrounding Martin.

There had been so many times he had known he should call Martin, check in with him, invite him over. But instead, Danny had pushed him away, selfish, knowing it hurt less than being reminded of the shooting, of all the things he should have done but couldn't.

If Martin needed him now, homophobe or not, Danny would not hesitate to step up. They had been friends before Danny realised his feelings-it was his own challenge to deal with them so they could both move on.

But of course Danny almost choked on this thought when he heard: "Viv, I-I think I'm...bisexual."

_What?_

Danny flattened himself against the wall- head dizzy from the shock and the immense joy he now had to suppress- as if somehow Martin, having finally admitted the truth, would suddenly know Danny had heard every word. Danny felt like he would choke with happiness but the idea of leaping out and hugging Martin was firmly- and unfortunately- squashed when he heard Martin let out another strangled sob. He should absolutely _not_ be smiling when Martin sounded so heartbroken, but Danny couldn't help it. Martin was bisexual- confusing for the other man, yes, but nothing he couldn't get through.

Nothing like a pain killer addiction, anyway.

"I don't know if I can continue this...on my own."

Cue Danny as knight in shining armour.

"Hey, Fitzie!" A split second too late Danny realized _exactly_ how this looked.

Martin had his head buried against Viv's shoulder, when he looked up Danny saw the tears pouring down his face and Danny-who wasn't even supposed to be there-was smirking, dressed in his civvies.

Martin let go of Viv faster than Danny thought possible.

"Uh, h-hi Danny. You're home early." Muttered whilst wiping his eyes hastily and Martin didn't exactly seem _thrilled_ by his presence.

"Oh Yeah. Miss me?" Danny had no idea where this flirty attitude was coming from, but he wasn't complaining- it sure beat being too full of self-loathing to look Martin in the eye, like he had anticipated this encounter would go.

Martin looked rather like a deer in headlights. Vivian eyed Danny for a moment then got up from her seat. For a split second, Danny thought she was going to whack him over the head with the newspaper in her hand, but instead she just walked off, the soft click of her heels on linoleum echoing down the corridor as she left them alone.

"Hey, Fitzie, you alright?" Danny cautiously put one hand on Martin's shoulder and pulled his own body an inch closer.

"You are too happy, too early," Martin half-joked. He had stopped crying and even though he had tear-stains across his cheeks he seemed a little brighter. "I'm grabbing another coffee, you want one?"

Danny nodded, smiling his way through the confusion, attempting to resist the urge to question why on earth Martin had been at the debates and the protests if he was struggling with his sexuality.

As an afterthought, Danny realised that perhaps that was exactly the point.

_I promise you Martin, whoever made you cry, they're going to regret messing with you, and whatever they did, I'm going to do whatever I can to fix it, _Danny promised Martin silently as he watched his friend disappear down the hall.

~.o0o.~

Danny heard Martin gasp in pain followed by a crash. Startled, he raced to the break room. Martin stood next to the sink, clutching his fingers, the coffee maker smashed on the ground in a rapidly spreading pool of caffeine.

"Are you alright, Martin?"

"I-I just burnt my hand and pushed the whole thing off the bench. I'm sorry," he said, apologetic. Martin looked like a naughty child admitting a wrong-doing to his parents.

"Here, just run them under some cold water." Danny sidestepped the machine and the coffee spill to grab Martin's wrist and hold it carefully underneath the cool tap.

"I really am sorry for breaking the coffee machine," Martin insisted. Danny looked at him, at his fingers that had started to blister, yet he was still apologising for a perfectly innocent accident.

"Martin, it's alright. It was an accident," Danny said, laughing a little at how ridiculous the entire situation was. Danny stretched up, took the First Aid kit down from the shelf in the cupboard.

After ordering Martin to sit down at one of the tables in the break room whilst ignoring his firm protests that he was more than capable of doing so himself, Danny proceeded to wrap his fingers individually in a gauze.

"Listen, Danny," Martin began, and then he stopped to flinch when Danny taped the bandage in place. "You-you're probably wondering why I was upset before..."

"It's alright. Hey, it's none of my business right?" Danny said, feeling guilty that he had been eavesdropping on Martin's conversation with Viv; feeling guilty that Martin was obviously uncomfortable with talking about this.

"Danny, I-I'm just…really glad you're back early," Martin said, sincerity ringing through every word.

"I know, who else could you trust to cover up all evidence of your heinous crime?" Danny smiled at the thought of Martin, standing red-handed (literally) over the dead coffee maker.

"No, I...I am," Martin swallowed thickly, took a deep breath that filled Danny with dread, "doing this undercover thing, with Harry Pressler. We think he had something to do with the disappearance of Jackson Fort, he's this gu-"

"I know who Jackson Fort is."

"Good, good, anyways… it's really difficult for me, because uh…"

"Pressler's a dick?" Danny offered in an attempt to lighten the seriousness and anxiety rolling off Martin in waves.

Martin smiled.

"Well, that's great!" Danny grinned before once again remembering _timing_.

"You're not a fan of Jackson Fort?" Martin looked as though Danny had just slapped him.

"No, no, I...I am! I'm just glad you're alright Martin- you seemed really upset."

Martin looked away, like he had a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn't put them into words right now. Danny didn't care; it was enough to know that Martin had been undercover, not present at the debate for a much less admirable reason. Coupled with Martin's earlier revelation to Vivian, Danny found himself filled with hope and anticipation for what could be between them, if only he gave Martin a little more time to sort his head out.

"Listen, buddy, it's alright. Because we're a team, remember? And you don't need to worry about Pressler and...everything _else_ on your own anymore- I'm here to help," Danny said, praying Martin didn't realise that his attempt at reassurance was as pleading as Martin's earlier apology.

He should say more, really. Things like _I'm sorry I ever let you down _and _I overheard what you said to Viv and man I'm proud of you _but most of all _I think I'm still in love with you and that terrifies me. _

But in that moment, what he _had _said and done seemed to be enough. Within seconds Martin was smiling again- it was forced, Danny could tell, but it was far _far_ better than tears.

"I-I...thanks, man," Martin murmured, but the relief in his beautiful blue eyes said much more.

"Don't mention it," Danny replied, his brain already buzzing with ways he could help his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi all! Again, oops this took a while (sorry!) but we've come up with a system! From here on in we'll post a new chapter every Monday afternoon/evening GMT (we know a lot of you are from the US or Australia, but this way will work best for us with school and everything so you can just check Tuesday if you need to) and on weeks when one or both of us has a few days off from school we may upload two chapters. It's a schedule that we should be able to stick to, motivation and at the same time means you won't have to keep checking back. **

**Thanks for being so patient and for the encouraging reviews! (This is Martin's POV but next should be Danny's!)**

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Danny's enthusiasm when Martin revealed he was working undercover was more than just a little off-putting. Danny's glee over a missing gay politician caused Martin's fragile heart to shatter. He felt melodramatic yet horribly betrayed, how had he misread Danny so badly for so long?

Regardless, Danny had insisted it was Martin's best interests he was looking out for, a fact which did indeed soften the blow his out-of-character joy at their victim. Martin had thought that he couldn't be any more confused than he had been two hours ago; now, he felt tied in knots, his brain and heart aching simultaneously from the effort of just thinking about Danny.

The sheer relief that Danny was finally back from Florida was enough to soon make him forget about his concerns though. It wasn't just that seeing Danny, hearing his laugh and realising that while he hated himself right now, Danny still looked at him the same way he had before he'd left for Florida- it was a comfort that his best friend had not been able to detect the huge change the last few days had stirred inside him.

Aside from all of the emotional reassurance Danny's return brought, it also relieved a little more professional pressure too. Because now Danny was back, maybe Jack wouldn't be watching Martin so closely.

Maybe he'd have somebody on side when he told Jack he was done with being Matthew Cavanaugh.

But then Danny spoke, "I know you can do this, man," and it was almost like Martin's concrete decision had been bulldozed into shattered pieces. Having somebody believe in him - even if it was somebody biased by their friendship- well, it was enough to make him doubt whether resigning from the undercover work was really a good idea.

Viv wanted him to talk to Jack, get taken off the case- Martin knew that. She was quite vocal about what she thought he should do, and to be honest he had no question whatsoever that she was right.

He had to think about himself before even considering a relationship with Danny- or anybody else, for that matter. The sooner he could accept himself, the sooner this chronic rage he felt towards his stupid feelings would begin to dull.

Danny had just finished bandaging his fingers together (and that was utter embarrassment if Martin had ever known it, and evidence he was a complete idiot if he had ever needed it) when Martin decided he needed to tell Danny he was stepping off the case.

"Listen, Danny, I-" Martin took a deep breath, imagining Danny's peaceful, concentrated face descend into disappointment.

Danny looked up, his cheeky grin crumpling at seeing Martin's worried face. He snuck a worried glance at Martin's fingers. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, course not." Martin did not want to make this any harder than absolutely necessary."I-may-be-kind-of-getting-Jack-to-take-m e-off-the-case," he blurred out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid- fast and also, unfortunately, completely inaudible.

Danny smiled, "Sorry, what was that Martin?"

"I can't do it Danny, it's too much; too much hatred, too much pressure, too much..._everything_." As much as he was trying to hold it together, within seconds Martin was close to sobbing again, close to showing Danny exactly how _much _this stupid case had destroyed him.

"Martin…" Danny's voice was soft, gentle, warm. With his hand, he tilted Martin's face up so that they were eye to eye, "You, can do it now, I'll be with you and we can do it together. From what I've heard you've already got a really good position and it's important to find Jackson Fort alive. He has a good shot at winning this year!"

The hope in Danny's voice, the pride, the optimism...it wasn't enough to convince Martin this time. Instead, it just made him more acutely aware of his failings, of the fact he had been nothing but a disappointment to those he loved for the duration of his life thus far.

"And I thought I'd gotten rid of you for a while," Jack's voice grumbled from the doorway of the break room. Martin looked up, praying it was not obvious that there were tears stinging in his eyes.

Danny grinned widely, as though Martin's near-breakdown moments ago had not occurred. "You mean me or Martin?"

Jack shrugged, careless and casual as ever. "Both," he grunted.

"Don't lie, you missed me as much as everybody else," Danny teased, but Jack simply rolled his eyes and went over to the coffee maker, now arranged in pieces on the bench.

"Jesus, you're back two minutes and you already broke something?" he turned to glare at Danny, and Martin knew he should jump in, but his voice faltered when Danny winked at him.

"Every good team needs a clueless yet adorably handsome klutz like me," Danny explained, but Jack seemed less than impressed.

"You're buying a new one." Ignoring Danny's best attempts at looking cute, Jack turned his attention to Martin. "Have you filled Agent Disaster here in on the case?"

Somehow, Martin gathered the strength to nod. "Uh, yeah." He cleared his throat, hoping to sound in control and sure of his decision. Instead, it came out as more of a squeak. "Listen, Jack, I-"

"-He's done good, I'll admit it. At first I thought he was just screwing around out there undercover, but he's starting to work his way into the inner circle," Jack said, speaking purely to Danny with admiration in his tone as though Martin was _not _in the middle of telling him he was a failure.

Danny looked a Martin, an expression on his face that had: _I told you so, _written all over it. "Did you really expect any less than 110% from Martin?"

Jack put his hand on Martin's shoulder, and Martin found himself wishing the ground would open. How was he supposed to tell them both he had been thinking about resigning? Not just from the case, but from this department, and even the FBI altogether?

"I guess not," Jack admitted. "And he didn't let us down."

The knot of shame in Martin's chest began to grow. "I-I know that's what you think, but…"

"Keep up the good work," his boss said, nodding in his direction once before leaving the room in search of coffee from another source.

Danny turned to him, a light of relief in his eyes. "I knew Jack would trust you again. He just needed some time to realise what a great agent you are."

Typically, this type of compliment would merit a blush- but today, Martin could master the energy to be neither flattered nor embarrassed. _I'm thinking of quitting, _was what he _should _say, but Martin was nothing if not a coward, so he bit his tongue and ducked his head.

When was the last time Jack had sounded...proud of him? For _anything_? Long before the addiction, the shooting...maybe even before he dated Samantha. The last few years had been one mistake after another causing a rift to form between the two, until Martin was so close to the edge he was ready to throw himself off. But now, with this case and his position and Jack's patience, he felt like he was being handed another chance to invent himself; a clean slate to start his career over.

Problem was, Martin was no longer certain it was what he wanted.

But he knew what he _needed_: some time away, to figure things like his sexuality out. To untangle his feelings and his hopes for his own future from those he had become entwined with- Danny, his parents, Jack. He needed to work out where and what and who would make _him _happy. He needed to be a man, to take responsibility for the things he had screwed up. He needed to piece together the parts of the person he once was with the new, jaded, sorry-excuse-for-an-agent he had become.

He couldn't find himself while being tasked with finding other people- it just wasn't feasible; it just wasn't _healthy_.

But when he looked up, Martin saw the way Danny was looking at him; the same way he used to all those months ago: like he saw him as more than a junkie, a physical wreck, a fragile member of their team so useless he barely deserved to be a part of the unit at all.

He didn't want to be pulled right back in- not now he had finally set his mind on the right thing to do, but on this occasion...he wasn't sure going with his own mind was really an option anymore.

If he backed out now, not only would he be letting everybody down, throwing his hundredth last chance in Jack's face, disappointing Danny...he'd also be jeopardizing an entire case. The chances of even finding Jackson Fort alive were quickly diminishing with every passing moment that he went unfound- to just drop out of the undercover mission Martin was basically dropping the case entirely.

Which would be yet another promise he had made and broken.

Missing people were supposed to come first here, and the fact Martin felt had a connection with this particular victim only made him more determined to solve this case, to find Jackson, to, at the very least, ensure the bastards who kidnapped him paid for their sick judgements that had escalated to senseless abuse.

Justice was more important that his own personal issues and Martin knew it. When the case was over, when Jackson Fort was back safe and sound with his loving boyfriend, _then _Martin would take the time off he needed. Best go out on a high, he thought.

If he could do this one last thing, then maybe he'd be able to maintain the relationships he'd formed here, whether he returned or not. More than that, he could say without question that the last year had not been a complete and total waste.

With Danny's earlier promise still ringing in his ears- _I'll be with you and we can do it together- _Martin realised he had known all along what he was going to do: find Jackson Fort, even if it took every last ounce of strength he had left.

Sure, he couldn't lie to himself anymore, but if he came out in three months time, he would be a disgrace to his family, to his friends, maybe even his team- he owed them all this final task, this last ditch attempt and showing he was worth the faith they'd invested in him.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Danny POV again! Thank you for reviews and follows! Also to that last Guest who asked if we're studying psychology, well I (C****arla) am currently considering studying it along with English in Uni, so it means a lot that you think we are dealing with emotions and feelings in a 'real' way! **

**Please continue to enjoy! And check back next Monday for Chapter Eleven!**

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"You want to do _what_, exactly?" Danny squirmed under the weight of Jack's eyes, scrutinizing him with suspicion and hesitance.

Five minutes had passed since Danny burst into the senio agent's office and demanded to be a part of the undercover operation that was obviously weighing so heavily on his best friend's heart, mind and shoulders.

"Help out?" Danny was trying to be confident but it came more of a question than an answer. To be honest, he didn't really know enough about the situation to suggest a role he could play- but he _did _know that Martin needed support out there, and that he had to be the one to give it to him.

"I don't know if I can authorize that."

"Jack, _please_." Oh wonderful- begging, just _radiating_ confidence. He was starting to appear pathetic and desperate, but he couldn't stop himself. It would be worth it, Danny assured his disappearing pride, to be able to help Martin through whatever issues this case had surfaced.

"I already have Martin undercover, I can't risk the operation by sending you out too," Jack insisted, and then he paused, raising a single eyebrow in a way that never failed to intimidate Danny, despite how long they had worked together. "Unless, of course, you don't think he's capable."

Danny was smart enough to read between the lines- this was not a question Jack would usually ask. No- this time, when he said 'capable' what he _really _meant was 'clean.'

A vision of Martin not an hour ago, with tears of pure misery streaming down his face; his hands shaking like he was guilty of some horrendous crime; his voice hitching and hysterical, played out in the forefront of Danny's mind. His friend obviously needed to quit this case, but he also needed to face up to who he was. If Danny lied to Jack, Martin might get the result he wanted right now, but in the long run (to be taken off of a case that was obviously too much for him to handle), but would it _really _help him to just continue pretending, to shelter himself from what society really had to say?

There was also the added fact it would a be a betrayal on Danny's part, and Danny Taylor did not throw his friends under the bus.

Even if they had effectively positioned themselves in the middle of a busy street alive with on-going traffic.

"No, no, no!" Danny said, a little too loudly and with far too much enthusiasm. "Martin's doing fine. Great, actually." When Jack narrowed his eyes, Danny's hastily added, "You said so yourself, right?"

"Uh huh," Jack no longer sounded so sure. Danny bit his lip. "So if you think he's doing what needs to be done, why should I let you jump in?"

"Back-up," Danny replied, shrugging his shoulders as though the answer should be obvious. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Jack hardly seemed sold on the idea. "You think I haven't thought of that already? I have a team of rookies watching Martin's every time he's anywhere in public."

"Well maybe there's something else I can do," Danny said quickly. "We don't want to put _too _much pressure on Martin. I could go in from another angle, another lead."

Jack stared at Danny blankly. "If we had other leads, do you honestly think I would be sitting here talking to you?"

"Uh…no?" Danny was running out of options and ideas.

"Are you aware how risky it is to have two agents undercover at the same time? Do you realise the strain that could put on the entire investigation, not to mention the unit?" Jack shook his head, looking less than convinced by Danny's pleas. "Another agent to monitor; twice as many chances for Pressler to figure something's up. It's not a case of just sending you out and hoping for the best. There are procedures, Danny. _Rules_."

He knew he was seriously pushing his luck, but Danny had to try it: "Since when did you care about procedures and rules?"

If it shocked Jack just a little that Danny was, all of a sudden and from what he knew out of nowhere, disagreeing with and questioning him, well, he didn't show it.

"What part of 'not going to happen' are you struggling to understand here, Danny?"

"Come on, Jack. If we don't have leads, I'm just going to be sitting around the office doing nothing anyway. At least this way, I can keep an eye on Martin so you and Viv don't need to. You can get back to doing...whatever it is you need to, to find Fort." Danny hoped Jack couldn't tell just how little he really knew about this case.

A splinter of luck- with a reluctant sigh, Jack caved. "It's Martin's case, if he doesn't mind splitting it then that's fine. But first you'll need to be brought up to speed."

Resisting the urge to punch the air in triumph, Danny nodded and thanked Jack, aware that the older agent was watching him with amusement and curiosity as he walked out of the office, a spring in his step obvious.

He caught up with Martin just as the other man was stepping into the elevator, his shoulders slouched, that defeated-yet-resigned look on his face that caused something inside Danny's chest to ache.

"Hey, buddy, wait up!" Danny called, as Martin lifted his head with an expression of pure disorientation and held his hand out to stop the elevator doors from closing. "Thanks," Danny said, smiling widely as he stepped inside, standing far closer to Martin than necessary in such a roomy elevator.

Contrary to what Danny had expected after the last few hours, Martin made a point of edging away from him, as though being so close to Danny made him unbearably uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Danny tried not to dwell. "You headed back to the hotel?"

"_Hotel_?" Martin murmured, pausing for a moment like he hadn't yet fully decided _where _he wanted to go. Finally, he nodded. "Oh, right- yeah."

"I have a proposition for you," Danny teased, leaning in and smiling again when Martin backed away nervously. As though Danny was about to jump him in this elevator, to hell with the security cameras stationed at every corner.

Not practical, but what an idea.

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. I know this undercover work hasn't been…_easy _for you. But, I think I know a way I can help. A way you won't have to do this alone."

Martin did not look convinced. "I doubt that," he said dryly, those invisible guards of his safely up, the connection Danny had felt between them in the break room seemingly existing only in his imagination.

"Let me come undercover with you," Danny said, his words coming out more of a request than a suggestion. "Come on, Martin. We can do this together."

Martin's eyes visibly darkened. Something in his demeanour shifted and Danny realised he'd been wrong thinking Martin was trying to shut him out before- this was the true expression of somebody who wanted you to stop talking and _fast. _"Did Jack tell you he wants you to take over?" A tone so bitter Danny almost flinched.

"No! _I _suggested it to _him_-"

"-oh so it's _you _that thinks I'm incapable now?" The elevator doors pinged open. Martin made a move to storm out, but Danny grabbed his arm.

"Martin, c'mon, you _know _that's not what I meant-"

"I thought you were on my side," Martin snapped, pulling away from Danny's touch.

"That's not fair," Danny said quickly, following Martin, hot on his heels as he began to walk briskly across the FBI ground floor. "I'm _always _on your side. I only suggested it because I know-"

Martin stopped dead in his tracks; Danny very nearly crashed into him. "-What exactly _do_ you 'know', Danny?" When words failed him, Martin turned around and blinked at Danny, and there were fresh tears in his eyes. It cut Danny's insides open again- worse this time, because somehow now he was the cause of Martin's pain. "You don't know the first thing about me," he looked around at the busy lobby, then back at the space between them, the invisible barrier neither man would dare cross in public. "You don't know the first thing about _this_."

Was he simply referring his position on the case? Or was it more than that? Did he mean the shift in their friendship they were both pretending had not occurred, the prejudice he had dealt with first hand over the last few days, the internal struggle Danny had grown out of but Martin had repressed for far too long?

"Martin," Danny whispered, longing to reach out, to touch, to soothe. But while he was no longer ashamed of who he was, he was no idiot. Making any sort of intimate move on a male co-worker, the son of the deputy director, in the middle of headquarters, would have him kicked out of the FBI quicker than it would take him to make the journey home to his apartment during rush hour.

Martin shook his head followed by an empty laugh that seemed misplaced, resentful even. "Do what you want," he said, and the fact his voice seemed to break twice from the effort of speaking those four words told Danny that this conversation, this mood of Martin's, had very little to do with not wanting to share the glory of solving a case.

"Tell me how to fix things," Danny said, once he had recovered the power of speech. _Tell me how to fix things, _he had said, but what Martin heard- what they'd both known he'd meant- was: _Tell me how to fix you. _

"I don't think you can," Martin replied, and then he left Danny standing there alone, a punch to the gut, a knife through the heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**I hope all you guys are well! Martin's POV again, but things are beginning to look up for the boys in this chapter...let's not get too used to it though, we all know how much angst they lend themselves to in fics! **

**Thank you all for your comments, encouragement and continued patience!**

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Martin stood in the lobby of the Hilton, awaiting the eventual arrival of the elevator. He needed to change his shirt- for one thing, the cuff was coffee-stained from his earlier run-in with the coffee maker. The taxi ride here had calmed him down, yet he felt more drained than he thought possible. Danny had that effect, he supposed. Or maybe it was honesty- something so foreign to him- that was really responsible for stealing his energy, leaving him emotionally fraught and physically exhausted.

"Matt!" That voice, enthusiastic and filled with hope, sent a wave of anxiety over Martin. Reluctantly, he turned to face an already-judging-Lucy. "Are you just getting in?" She asked, eyeing him up and down like she had never before seen somebody wear a shirt and trousers outside of church.

"I, um, went out for a...walk." It was a terrible lie, but it was much, much better than the truth: _I went out to quit my job. _

"Whatever. Aren't you coming to breakfast?"

_Breakfast_? Martin felt like it must be at least noon- it was almost as if he had been awake for hours. He had, of course, but it was one of those days when he was certain the minutes were dragging out, tortuous and agonising.

Lucy was doing it again- staring at him like she expected something from him, but he had no idea what it was, and he was far too tired to try to guess. "I-I already ate."

Another lie, but food was the last thing on his mind. Right now, the only activity that really appealed to him was a cold shower and some time alone to prepare for whatever his day with Pressler would demand.

Lucy frowned. "But we saved you a seat," she protested. "Everybody's waiting to find out how your dinner with Mr Pressler went!"

Re-hashing the previous night's events with a group of people who would most likely greet his horror at the treatment of the waiter with indifference did not appeal to Martin in the slightest. To add to that, he wasn't entirely sure just how well he would pretend to be one of them, especially now he had come so close to bailing on the group.

"I'll be sure to catch up with you guys later. I really need to get ready." Martin glanced pointedly at his watch, forcing a brief smile. "I'm late as it is." The elevator beeped, just the correct moment to save him, and he hurried inside before Lucy could plead further.

The doors closed painfully slowly, meaning Martin had no choice but to watch her expression change to one of disappointment. He felt his chest swell with the realisation that he had bluntly crushed whatever faith she had invested in him.

He had let her down, like everyone else on his ever-growing list. Yes, he felt guilty for rudely avoiding her, but who was he to give her advice on how to stand up to her father, when he was too much of a coward to be honest with his own?

The elevator doors had mercifully closed and the ride up to his floor was quick. He stepped out and headed towards his room, dragging his feet only slightly.

~.o0o.~

A few hours later, Martin found himself in the elevator again. As he stepped into the lobby, he spotted the exact people he wanted to avoid. To make matters worse, standing in the middle of the group, in faded blue jeans and a top that accentuated his muscular chest- not exactly matching the air of such a high-end hotel- the centre of attention as usual, was Danny Taylor.

Martin didn't feel angry though. His first thought was, _I need to get out of here. _

"Matthew!" Kevin called to him, Brooke waved him over, but neither Lucy nor Danny looked his way.

Obviously now he had been spotted, there was no way of ducking his head and hastily making his way outside. Instead, he shoved his hands deep in his trouser pockets so they wouldn't do anything crazy- like try to touch Danny- and made his way towards them. "Hey, guys."

"Your friend Leo just arrived to take over," Brooke informed him, a wide smile on face. "You're so modest, Matt! Why didn't you tell us you'd gotten a job working with Harry Pressler?"

Martin gritted his teeth. _Leo_?

"We're so proud of you!" Jesse cheered, and the younger boys clapped, earning a glare from the receptionist.

"What are we going to do without you?" Kevin asked, patting him on the back in congratulations.

Martin was blushing, but not a in a good way. He wasn't like Danny Taylor- he didn't enjoy having all eyes on him, rather, it made him uneasy. "You'll be fine. You have Leo now."

Danny didn't look at him. "Yeah. Hey, you guys mind if I have a moment alone with Matt?"

Lucy certainly didn't need to be asked twice, but Martin was aware that was probably more to do with him being so short with her earlier than anything else. The others filtered away, each taking turn to pat him on the shoulder and congratulate him as they passed.

When they were finally alone, Danny carefully raised his gaze to Martin. The electricity that passed between the two did not go unnoticed by either of them... but then Danny began to speak and it was as if the moment had not existed at all. "Listen, _Matt,_ I know you don't want me here but-"

"-but what?"

"But...but I couldn't bear the thought of you being here with these horrible people and hearing all their toxic words; but I don't want you to be someone you're not without somebody who cares for you to pull you back when you're going over the edge and to remind you who you are and what's important in your life. I know you're stronger than anyone gives you credit for but that doesn't mean I won't worry about you!" Danny's voice got stronger and more powerful coming to the end of his rant- he was even blushing a little, something Danny Taylor did not do. Martin could feel the power and the allure in those words.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up on ends, his stomach flipped with the tentative excitement that Danny's promising words held. Before he knew it, Martin was smiling- surprised it didn't feel nearly as forced as the rest of his life had been of late. "I shouldn't have been so hard on you earlier; you were only trying to help."

"-And I know you probably resent me for it but-" Danny stopped mid-sentence, tripping over his excuses. "Wait, are you _apologizing_?"

"I'm saying I shouldn't have snapped at you," Martin admitted. "I was just...I-I have a lot going on right now."

"I know you do. And that's why I'm here- even if you don't want me to be, even if you think I'm doing this for all the wrong reasons," Danny said, shaking his head. "All I want is to help you."

It was yet another conversation between them that should have been about the case but wasn't. Right now, they both needed to be focused. They had a job to do, and their task of finding Fort went rings higher than whatever this misguided responsibility was that they currently had to each other.

"I have a security training afternoon with a company Pressler appointed," Martin explained, clearing his throat, sparing a quick glance in the direction of the others-huddled on the lobby sofas, laughing over some ridiculous newspaper article that Kevin was passing around. "I need you to keep an eye on them."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "You think one of them might have something to do with it?"

Martin wanted to say no, of course. During his time with them, he had quickly discovered bigoted beliefs did not necessarily make you a bad person. Lucy was to thank for this knowledge, of course. From her he'd learned that, however unjust they seemed, there were many reasons why people might be anti-gay. Because they didn't know they have the choice to think for themselves; because they had been educated only by religion; because they wanted revenge.

He had learned that although their words hurt, sometimes the hatred really wasn't all that personal.

Martin himself had been raised to think that homosexuality was wrong, a sin, and he had fallen back on these thoughts enough to know that it was nowhere near as black and white as outsiders thought. It was easy to say that you either accepted it or you didn't...but it was ten times harder to actually make that choice for yourself when you were being pulled in two different directions.

He also knew how easy it was to fall into the trap of seeing protests on TV and making judgements about the people involved. Not everyone who was against homosexual relationships were religious; not every person who protested spoke of hell and eternal damnation. The thing that newspapers, news channels, politicians, constantly forgot was that the people on both sides of the fence were still just people: they were teenagers like Lucy who were simply trying to please; they were young men like Chris and John, seeing to it that the group founded by their late father did not disappear, busying themselves with spreading a message they didn't really understand to avoid facing up to their grief; they were sweet couples like Jesse and Brooke, who had been taught that their inability to conceive a child must mean they weren't doing enough to serve God.

Regardless of the reason they were here, they were still human. Humans who made mistakes, who got things wrong, who were influenced by society, who were shaped by their experiences. If Martin had never met Danny Taylor, would he too be one of them-just one too cowardly to protest things like marriage bills and openly gay politicians?

He hoped not, but thankfully, he would never know. Still, when Martin looked at Chris and Jesse and Lucy he couldn't help but think: _I could have been you_.

With that in mind, he felt guilty considering they might have had a hand in what happened to Fort. Sure, they were misguided and intolerant, but that didn't mean they were _kidnappers_.

"I don't think so," Martin said, "but they might have information on another group who _are _involved."

Danny nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

Martin glanced over his shoulder, making sure they weren't being listened to, thanking God that they weren't. "I'll probably be back late; I'm meeting with Pressler after the training. How about we re-group around 10 o'clock?"

Danny smirked. "Why, _Matthew_, are you inviting me to your hotel room?"

Martin felt a blush burn his cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that." Wanted to say what he really meant, _I just need to be close to you_, but couldn't conjure the words that wouldn't paint him in the most pathetic light.

"Room 401, right?"

Martin nodded. "Wait- how did you know that?"

"Hey, I do my research," Danny said smugly, and then he glanced over at the others. "I should go get to know them."

"Yeah," Martin agreed. "Pressler sent a car to pick me up, it's probably outside already."

Neither man made any effort to move.

Danny laughed first, and then Martin joined in, like just a few hours ago their friendship had not been well and truly changed forever; like they were not playing the parts of two people who were the antithesis to who they really were; like finding an innocent man alive was not seeming less and less likely with every second that passed.

As Martin forced himself to walk away, he was still smiling, the sweet sound of Danny's hopeful laughter enough to soothe the fear his mind for just a little longer.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry this is a little late, it's still Monday here! Danny POV, yay! Enjoy and thank you for the reviews and support! **

* * *

For people with such conservative beliefs, it seemed this group were anything but _conservative. _The woman- Brandi? Brooke? Danny was struggling to keep up- and her husband talked non-stop, shoving their iPhones in his face, cooing over pictures of their King Charles Spaniel wearing various things on his head; Kevin insisted on bending Danny's ear about the best restaurants to visit in New York City- having been told he lived here; the two younger boys plagued him with questions about which baseball team claimed his allegiance and why.

They were friendly and it was both refreshing and surprising to find that they were normal people having normal conversations- not at all the monsters that Martin's earlier meltdown had suggested they were. Still, 'normal' and 'friendly' were not going to find Jackson Fort and close the case.

They made plans for lunch, and it was only when the teenager- Kevin's daughter, from what Danny could tell- coughed deliberately and asked her father if she could stay behind, that Danny even realised she was an active member of the group.

"I should stay with you," Kevin insisted, pressing his palm to her forehead seconds before she pulled away.

"No, Dad, really, I'm _fine_," she muttered. "I just...don't feel like it, okay?" She didn't wait for an answer before heading the direction of the stairs.

Kevin looked at the others, stricken. "I should go after her," he said, yet he made no effort to move.

He exchanged a look with Brooke, and Danny wondered momentarily where the girl's mother was. Didn't she come along for the protests?

A thought struck Danny before he could dwell, the first rule of interviewing: kids talk. If he could get this girl alone, get her to confide in him, maybe he could get some information on the group's members.

It was better than watching the others pass around an Ice Cream Sundae, he figured. "You know what?" he said, smiling. "I left my wallet in my room, I ought to go get it. I'm on the same floor as you, I'll try and catch up with her, check she's okay."

If Kevin found it at all strange that a man he'd met less than two hours ago was offering to console his obviously-troubled teenage daughter, he didn't show it. "Are you sure?" he asked, but he'd already stood up from the couch, joining the others.

"Of course," Danny said, smiling widely and praying he came off as a concerned citizen and not a creepy pervert.

"I really appreciate that." Kevin sounded thankful for the break, to be honest. Why else would he be so eager to let someone else talk to his daughter?

Danny waited until they were exiting the lobby as a group before heading up the stairs at lightning pace, desperate to catch up with her considering he had absolutely no idea which floor her room was actually on.

"Hey!" He called when he spotted her, about to push open the door to the third floor. She spun around, blinking furiously like she was pressing away tears. "Are you alright?"

"What do you want?" She demanded.

_Think fast. _"I thought you might want to talk."

Guessing really, because why on earth would she want to talk to _him?_ They'd only just met. He didn't even know her name.

To his surprise- and his horror- she threw herself down on the bottom stair headed to the next floor and buried her head in her hands.

Danny wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not, but he sat down beside her her anyway. "You're not really sick, are you?"

It took a few minutes, but he was eventually able to translate her murmurings to, "I'm sick of _this_."

"I think everybody feels like that sometimes," Danny assured her, thoughts only of Martin, no clue whatsoever of the problems the teenager beside him thought she was struggling with. "It won't last forever."

At this, she started to cry. "Yes it _will_."

"I used to think the same when I was your age. You know what? I was wrong," Danny admitted gently. "And you are too. You just can't see it right now because it hurts."

She blinked at him, tears falling fast. Danny wanted to ask her, but couldn't. "Have you ever had something you wanted to say, and it's on the tip of your tongue, but you just _can't _bring yourself to say it aloud? Because it means telling the biggest person in your life something that has the power to change _everything_?"

Danny understood too well: so many times he had had the chance to say _I love you_ but didn't, so many days spent together in the office when he should have told Martin about the nightmares that plagued him, so many lost opportunities set up by Viv where he ought to have told Martin that he'd been suffering struggles of his own after the shooting.

"Yeah," Danny agreed softly, unable to advise her of anything that wasn't terribly hypocritical.

"It's easier to just go along with the ways things are than it is to tell him I want them to change," she continued, lost in a story all her own, unaware that her words were slotting into Danny's life perfectly. "It's like, everybody here is exactly the same, and no one understands. It's like... I can't do anything about it now because I never wanted to before."

"What changed?"

She shrugged. "I saw what we looked like through Matt's eyes."

It was a moment before Danny's ears practically perked up, before he connected the faux-name to the actor behind it.

"I don't understand." It hit Danny all at once- he'd assumed they'd been having this conversation regarding her personal life, a fight with a friend or whatever teenagers these day obsessed and worried about, but it was quickly becoming clear this conversation was more mature, more serious than he had credited it as. "Did Matt say something?"

Lucy shook her head, a small smile on her face, tears dry on her sleeves now. "He sort of didn't need to. I've been coming to these things so long; we've met so many people. I'm pretty good at spotting who's in denial and who isn't."

Danny's mouth dropped. No way could this girl be so perceptive. "Are you saying Matt's gay?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? All I'm saying is that it seems to me he's got some serious issues with what we protest against, and not in a homophobic way," she added, in a small voice, "not like my dad."

Never one to waste an opening, Danny asked, "Did your dad ever mention Jackson Fort to you?"

Stupid question, obviously, because Lucy was raising an eyebrow and staring at him like he'd just sprouted another head. "Uh, _duh_. Fort's the reason we're here, protesting, so close to the election. We were going to stay home from the march this year, since there was this super awesome school trip coming up that I really wanted to go on...but then...all this happened and Dad decided we couldn't not come."

"Would you say your father hates Fort?"

"Doesn't everybody?" She was doing that thing that teenagers excelled at- answering questions with questions. It did nothing but heighten the sympathy Danny currently felt for this girl. It was one thing being told what to do by a parent; it was another thing entirely to be told how to feel.

"Has your father ever been violent or aggressive?"

Lucy's eyes widened. "Are you a cop?"

_Shit_. "Of course not," Danny said, hoping it came out smoother than it was said. He added a little laugh for effect. "I'm just...trying to get to know everybody."

She pouted, like his answer was a disappointment. "No offense, but I wish Matt was still our leader."

Ouch. "None taken," Danny lied, but he didn't take it too personally. The girl had only known him a few minutes, Martin had been with them for _days_. Besides, it wasn't a competition.

"It's just, he understood what I mean, you know? He felt as uncomfortable as I do."

Danny wondered just how many kids Lucy's age or thereabouts were here for the same reason- because someone said they had to be. Their priest, their parent, their youth worker. He imagined the numbers were horrifying.

"I get it," Danny agreed, but Lucy seemed less than enthusiastic by his words. He could practically hear her teenage thoughts: _You _don't _understand. _"Do you think anybody here would ever want to hurt those they're rallying against? Like Fort, for example."

She didn't say anything, but she hung her head like maybe she thought it was better if she didn't. Her silence revealed more than words strung together in a sentence ever could- she didn't know. People you knew as well as yourself could be capable of damning things under the right circumstances, and it pained Danny that a girl as young as the one beside him knew enough about life to understand this cold hard fact.

"Lucy, do you have something else you want to talk about?"

She looked up, tears long gone, a fire alive and alit in her eyes- causing Danny to inch back slightly. Lucy bit her lip, not breaking his stare. Her lips began to move of their own accord, like her voice was being controlled by someone else entirely, "The night Fort disappeared," she said, not one hint of innocence left in her voice, "We had just arrived in New York. Dad went out...but he didn't come back until morning."

Danny did _not _like the sudden, harsh turn this conversation had taken. "Lucy, what happened the next morning?"

She licked her lips, a lioness marking her prey rather than the cub longing for protection she had been moments ago. "He was in the bathroom; he was washing blood off his hands."


	13. Chapter 13

**Danny's POV again, will be Martin's next time! Hopefully the next few chapters after this will be a bit more exciting. I hope everyone reading is well, and thank you as always for your lovely reviews and support! **

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"She's lying," Martin insisted, pacing the full length of his hotel room for damn near the fiftieth time.

"I don't think so," Danny said, slipping a complimentary chocolate left by housekeeping into his mouth. He sat, legs tucked beneath him, on Martin's hotel bed, watching his friend grow more and more agitated with each step. "I mean, you didn't hear the way she said it. Besides, she's a kid, she has no reason to lie."

Martin stopped in his tracks to glare at Danny. "You've had _one _conversation with her. You don't know her."

"And you do?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "What's going on with you two? She says you're the only one who understands; you're so sure she's lying when I'm telling you she _isn't_." Martin looked away again, and that was when he realised why it was his friend identified so heavily with Lucy: he too was trying to break free from his father's influence. "Martin," Danny said gently, "She's not you."

"I know that, okay?" Martin snapped, but Danny could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He was tired of fighting, tired of trying. _Just _like Lucy, in fact. "I just...I _know _she's lying."

"Regardless, I think we should have Jack take him in for questioning. The guy has motive, opportunity, no alibi. All he needed was to hire a van- he works in plumbing, right? He already has a license. His own daughter is willing to admit he came home late, that she saw him in the bathroom with blood on his hands. Come on, Martin, if you don't think he's our main suspect then you're crazy."

"Don't you dare tell Jack," Martin all-but growled. If they hadn't been friends for so long, Danny might even have flinched at that threatening tone.

"Look, just because you feel some misguided loyalty to your new best friends does not mean that I intend to let a potential murderer walk free and-"

"-You said you wanted to help me," Martin interrupted, folding his arms.

Danny could see where this was going. He groaned. Emotional blackmail was the worst. "You know I do."

Martin just blinked at him, like he was still waiting for an answer. "And this is still _my _case, right?"

He should really say no- because Martin was making all the wrong decisions for all the wrong reasons; because Martin was not anywhere near coping with this case and they all knew it; because things would eventually escalate, and when they did, Martin would be at the forefront of it all, something Danny wasn't sure he could stomach again.

If Danny said this aloud, however, he ran the risk of losing their now fragile friendship, the tentative progress made in whatever it was between them that resembled a romantic relationship, even his position as Martin's confidant.

Jack had told him not to step on Martin's toes, but his boss had not realised how much the other man was struggling. It was in Danny's hands. Right now, he had the power to take the case from his friend's shoulders, ease him of this burden…but loyalty and the promises he had made to support him meant he couldn't.

"Right," Danny sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's still your case."

_For now. _

"Then you won't tell Jack about what Lucy said," Martin said, smiling a little triumphantly, and it was so damn cute Danny forgot that seconds ago he had been debating just sending Martin back to the office in a cab. "At least not until I've had time to talk to her about it."

"If Kevin kills again-"

"Will you _stop_?" Martin demanded, shaking his head. "Why are you assuming Fort's dead?"

Danny couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't tear Martin apart, so he didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

Martin's small grin changed to a frown. "Wait, what do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing," Danny said quickly, and it really wasn't even a lie. He didn't know much of _anything _for sure. What he _did _know, though, was that as he had been in the tech room, being prepped for joining Martin undercover, Jack quietly commented that it had been nearly a week since anybody had seen or heard from Fort; that it was safe to assume they were looking for a body; that he and Sam were headed to all the local morgue's the following day to personally check out every John Doe, instead of waiting for the images hand-picked by the pathologists they would usually receive via email once a week.

He didn't need to relay this information to Martin. Martin knew it all anyway-deep down- Danny was sure. He knew, he just didn't want to admit or accept it.

"If you knew something...you'd tell me, _right_?"

Danny swallowed hard against the deceit lining his throat. "Of course I would."

Martin looked relieved, but it was bittersweet to Danny. "Listen, just give me until tomorrow, okay?" He wasn't accusing anymore- just resigned. "Let me talk to Lucy. If she still maintains that what she saw really happened...well, I'll call Jack myself."

If Jack ever found out Danny was keeping this information from him, he would have both Danny and Martin's heads on a chopping board. But what was another secret on Danny's part? He was already lying to Martin, didn't he owe his friend this last chance to solve things?

He found himself nodding, then smiling because his surrender earned another grin from Martin.

Martin, who flopped down on the bed beside him. Martin, whose blue eyes were bright when they met his, rather than the dullness that had been present just that morning. Martin, whose face Danny found himself moving closer to, two polar opposites magnetically coming together due to a force beyond them.

Martin, who was looking at Danny like he wanted to be kissed.

Which was exactly what Danny wanted, was all he had ever really wanted...but not like this, with lies still fresh on his own tongue, with Martin only smiling at him because he had relented and let him have this shitty case his way; not without a conversation to damper his doubts or a promise that tomorrow Martin would not avoid him like a plague; not when Martin was staring right through him, as though it didn't really matter all that much who Danny was, so long as he was here and wanting him in a way he hadn't been wanted in a long time.

Torn between hating himself for having a moral compass and being proud of his self-control, Danny lifted his own head up, rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Martin's confused stare. "You didn't tell me how things went with Pressler today."

"You didn't ask," Martin said stiffly, but he was still staring.

"Are you officially head of security?"

"Danny, this might be hard to believe, but I did not invite you to my hotel room to talk about Pressler." He didn't even seem to realise he had said it until it was too late. Danny pretended to not notice the blush staining Martin's cheeks.

"It's late," Danny said, although he really had no idea what time it was. "I should go to bed. There's another debate tomorrow."

"I-I didn't mean-"

Danny rested his hand on Martin's shoulder, the best he could allow himself to offer him right now. "It's okay. I do want to. Just...just not like _this_."

"I wasn't suggesting we..." Martin's cheeks were turning darker shades of red with every word. "I just meant- we could order pizza. Maybe talk, you know?"

Danny wanted to agree, almost as hopelessly as he had longed to kiss Martin, but he wouldn't: because Martin didn't want to order pizza or talk about what was going on between them...he just didn't want to spend another night alone, and because Danny wasn't positive he could stop himself from giving in, from showing Martin that he really wasn't alone after all.

"Maybe tomorrow night," Danny assured him, before pushing himself up from the double bed and making a beeline for the door. "I'll see you at the debate tomorrow, yeah?"

Martin muttered something that resembled a _sure_ and Danny quickly left the room, and Martin, behind for the night.

~.o0o.~

_He could smell Martin's blood on his hands long after he had washed them. It was still there, after all. Under his fingernails, stuck in the cracks of his knuckles, the creases and paths of fate on the inside of his palm. _

_He heart was still beating furiously- adrenaline, Jack had assured him, but he was certain it was just fear. He shouldn't be here, at work, in this office, with Sam walking around looking like she was about to cry every time her eyes fell on Martin's desk and Martin's father tearing shreds out of Jack for reasons that Danny's racing mind could not understand. _

_He should be at the hospital, with Martin. He should be pacing the pristine corridors outside the operating room; he should remember the name of Martin's doctor, he should remember which theatre the nurse said they were taking Martin, which floor he would be brought to to recover. _

_Telling himself that Martin was not alone, that his mother was doing all the things Danny should be doing, brought little comfort. Martin would wake up (well, Danny was still trying to convince himself of this) and he would not be there...and what would that look like? _

_Like he didn't care; like he had the good sense to stay away; like he was consumed with guilt and did not deserve the inevitable forgiveness his friend would no doubt gift him with. _

It should have been him. It should have been him.

_He should have acted quicker; he shouldn't have ducked when they were reversing. He should have offered to drive. He should have shot the bastard who tried to take away the only person Danny had loved in a long time. _

_Except he didn't. He just blinked, paused, moved as though he were in slow motion- horror stalling everything but his nerves. He'd ducked, concerned only for his own safety, while Martin had to look behind them to reverse the car. He had missed, he had cowered to re-load. _

_Every twenty minutes or so, Danny would convince himself he was about to cry. He'd rush to the nearest bathroom, lock himself in the stall farthest from the door, and will his emotions to manifest, desperate by now for any type of release. _

_But they didn't, and instead, he found himself gasping for air, panting, overwhelmed by the desire to get out of this situation, to run away from New York like he had once run away from Hialeah. _

_The first time he felt this way, he even unlocked the stall and opened the tiny window in the bathroom, positive there must be some sort of oxygen shortage to blame. _

_It didn't help. Instead, standing made him dizzy, nausea overcoming him until he was back in the same stall, hunched over the toilet bowl and coughing the contents of his stomach up in between desperate and terrifying gasps for air. _

_His first thought was: _I'm going to die._ His second: _then maybe Martin _won't_.

_When he was finished heaving and hyperventilating, he looked down at his hands. They were suddenly completely covered in Martin's blood again, and although Danny scrubbed and scrubbed until he himself was bleeding, he couldn't get it off._

~.o0o.~

It took long seconds of furious blinking, a shaking hand reaching for the bedside lamp, for Danny to unsee the images of his dream.

Just another nightmare, except this one was almost exactly how it actually happened, these memories of that fateful night only beginning to be clear now, months later. Had he repressed it so much it was haunting him? Coming back in horrible flashes that left him disillusioned, seeing blood where there wasn't any, the desperate grip of panic clawing at his lungs, leaving him breathless?

Being so close to Martin again was the cause, and he knew it. A tiny part of Danny's mind reasoned that the only way to avoid remembering details of the night his world almost fell apart would be to avoid the constant reminder, the reason why a stupid brush with death had affected him so deeply.

Avoiding Martin was damn near impossible, not to mention it would not be worth it. Pushing the other man away was a pathetic attempt to forget, one that he had already exhausted in the early months post-shooting- in the long run, it had only resulted in Danny screwing up at work and Martin becoming addicted to painkillers, not to mention the non-reparable damage it had had on their friendship.

Way to handle things, Taylor-style.

Repeating that vicious cycle was not an option- Danny would just have to grin and bear it, pretend that he was not being tortured in his blood-streaked dreams. Martin would never have to know, as far as he was concerned.

What difference would it all make? Danny's heart palpitations when they were in a car alone together, the fact he sometimes found himself losing hours at a time reliving the events of that night in mid-November, the panic attacks that struck Danny in moments like this, when he could still hear angry gunshots and smell fresh blood that did not belong to him.

It was better if Martin did not know. He would only worry and he had his own problems, far bigger than Danny's. Besides, Danny's bad dreams and overactive imagination were nothing compared to the pain Martin must be dealing with- between struggling in the still-early stages of a narcotic addiction to building up the courage to come out to his friends and family.

Danny's issues paled in comparison, and _he _was supposed to be the strong one, because right now that was what Martin needed him to be.

His bed sheets were still damp with sweat, the sound of his breathless pants were still loud to even his own ears when his cell-phone screen lit up.

_1 new message. _Martin. **You still awake? **

Typing a message on a touch screen with sweat-slicked fingers was not an easy task. Still, Danny managed to reply: **No. But I am qualified to text in my sleep. I took a course once. **

The phone lit up again within seconds. **I'm sorry for dragging you into this. **

**I'm sorry for dragging my feet, **Danny answered, cutting the crap. Hell, when they were face-to-face they couldn't keep things about Fort, why pretend they could over iMessage? **I'm just trying to keep this about the case. **

It was a lie, but it was one he knew Martin would buy into. He believed 90% of what Danny told him, and Danny wasn't sure if it was because the guy was naive or because he trusted Danny implicitly and had never been given evidence to feel otherwise.

**Don't apologise. You're right. I just want to make everybody happy. **And there it was, the admission Danny had waited years for. Of course Martin would only be truly honest with him when he couldn't see the disappointment he assumed Danny's expression would convey.

It took every ounce of courage Danny had left inside to reply what he did, and even as he typed it he was talking himself out of it, yet somehow he held it together and didn't: **You already make me happy**, he said, and then he clicked send.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hope everybody has a great week! Martin's POV, enjoy and thank you as usual! x**

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Martin read that message seven times, then blinked, then read it again. His fingers hovered over the keys of his phone but he didn't press any of them. He locked the screen and turned around so that he couldn't see where his phone was sitting on his hotel bedside table, afraid of what he might dare to reply if he allowed himself. As he eventually drifted into sleep, Danny's profession of happiness sat in his stomach like the heat from a bonfire, comforting and soothing.

When he woke up, he realised that it might have seemed a little rude having not replied to Danny's text message, but how exactly was he _supposed _to respond to something like that? Here he was, attempting to hide away any sort of grey area in his sexuality that he may or may not be fighting- but hearing that, from _Danny_ none the less just made it all so much harder. Begrudgingly, he picked up his iPhone- it was fully charged but Danny hadn't texted again. Martin scolded himself for the slight hurt- he had been the one to not reply, to ignore Danny's message. Did he really expect the other man to plague him with messages until he did?

He showered quickly, got dressed and then stood in front of the mirror working his tie into the most professional knot. The last debate had undeniably chipped away at his confidence in this case, in his position in the undercover role, and there was no way he could let that happen again.

_Especially _not in front of Danny.

He took the stairs to the ground floor, knowing the group would take the elevator. The restaurant had just started serving breakfast, but the smell of eggs and bacon was far from appealing to his anxious stomach, and so instead he planned to buy a strong coffee to calm his nerves.

Except the others were already seated around a circular table, their laughter enough to make Martin want to run out of the room... forget the stupid morning coffee.

"Matt!" Brooke called, and she waved him over just like she had yesterday.

"We saved you a seat," Danny added, pointing to the empty space beside him.

Martin shook his head, hoping he convincingly looked more disappointed that he felt. "I'd love to, but I have to get to the debate early...the car's probably outside now."

"It's not," Kevin corrected. "They said they'd call me when they're outside." Why would they call _you_? Martin wanted to ask, but before he could, Kevin was talking again. "Lucy's going with you. Pressler's angle for his speech is the effect of homosexuality on young innocents. A member of his party called us last night and said he'd met her briefly at the last protest- with you, I think- and that he wanted her up there with some other kids today." He rested his arm on Lucy's shoulder, but it did not seem to bring her any comfort- she flinched away from his touch, expression emotionless, unblinking and unresponsive.

Danny's eyes met Martin's for a split second, and Martin knew what he was thinking. Kevin seemed pushy- some might even suggest aggressive, and Lucy was obviously uncomfortable around him right now.

Danny did not know the story of Lucy's mother- or at least Martin assumed he did not- so all of this was adding up in his mind to equal the only possible outcome he could envision-that Kevin had hurt Fort. Of course, Martin knew here could be a thousand reasons why Lucy was less than thrilled about her father's enthusiasm for this latest anti-gay venture of theirs, and Martin would bet that not one of them was anything to do with the haunting knowledge that Kevin was indeed involved in the kidnapping of a local political figure.

"I need to help the others with pickets and things- I promised Leo I'd show him how it's done," Kevin practically stage-whispered to Martin. "Matt, you don't mind keeping her company, do you? We'll see you both at the debate, but Mr Pressler requested she arrive alone."

Martin knew why- to paint her as more vulnerable, unprotected and alone. It was to evoke emotion and sympathy from onlookers, kids and teenagers parentless and- during the debate at least- reliant on society to shelter them from love between two people of the same gender.

As ruthless as it was, Martin knew he had to exploit this opportunity of getting Lucy alone. He promised Danny he would talk to her, he would prove her father was innocent, and now he'd been given this chance it would be an injustice to everybody involved not to take it.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Martin promised, and then, almost as if his words had cast a spell of misfortune, Kevin's cell lit up. Martin glanced at Lucy's plate- a breakfast untouched. "We can get you something to eat when we get there," he suggested, although she was still ignoring him.

"I'll see you there," Kevin said as she got to her feet.

Danny looked up, like he wanted to say goodbye but couldn't find words. Perhaps he was annoyed with Martin for not replying last night; perhaps he was even just a little embarrassed.

The idea made Martin smile- it was a ridiculous thought, really, to think that _he _could possibly be the reason for an embarrassed Danny Taylor, but it was a ridiculous thought that made his heart quicken in pace, goosebumps pepper his arms, his insides swell with anticipation. It was a ridiculous thought that might just help him survive the day with Pressler.

He attempted to hold one-sided conversation with Lucy until they were in the back of the limousine. "I spoke to Leo last night," he began, tentative, unsure of how to best broach the subject.

Lucy folded her arms and turned to stare out the tinted windows as the driver turned the stereo volume up a little higher to give them an element of privacy.

She did not answer him, yet it was not much of a surprise.

"He's worried about you, about something you told him."

She didn't seem half a shocked or betrayed as Martin assumed she would. "I figured he'd tell you."

"It's strange how you didn't mention it to me," Martin said, deciding teasing it out of her was perhaps the most subtle option available.

Now, Lucy looked angry. "When would I tell you? You've completely ditched us. We never see you anymore."

It had been a day since he'd stood in the lobby and chatted to them- albeit briefly. Naturally, this felt like forever to a fifteen year old with nobody else to talk to. _And _he'd skipped breakfast with them yesterday, dined with Pressler the night before. He hadn't even mustered up enough care to tell them he would no longer be leading the group, leaving it for Danny to do on his behalf.

"Things have been hectic," he admitted, not much of a lie by any standard. "But you can talk to me now."

She narrowed her eyes, still resentful he had allowed her to confide in her before what she surely saw as abandonment from another adult who promised to look out for her. "I've said all I need to say to Leo."

"You didn't have to lie to get my attention," Martin replied- a little too harsh, perhaps. "I'm listening now."

"You're just like the others! I heard about what went on at that dinner. I heard you were just another one of them, that you fit in perfectly," Lucy said, tone bleeding bitterness. She looked at him, finally, although he wished she hadn't, because in her eyes he saw the hypocrite he was reflected back. Lowering her voice, barely above a whisper, still pained from being stabbed in the back; from being disappointed yet again. "I really wanted you to be different."

No words Danny could ever say could make Martin feel worse than he did in that moment. His heart was sliced to shreds; his resolve was shattered in pieces on the floor. "Lucy," he said, sounding honest for the first time in days, weeks, maybe even months. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him for a beat longer than she needed to, and then she was blinking away tears. "I called my mom, after talking to you the other night. I asked her to come and get me- I cried for God's sake-I begged her to let me change... but she said I belonged with my father." Martin watched as Lucy buried her head in her hands. "It's too late."

Martin almost laughed out loud. Because it wasn't too late; it was nowhere _near _too late. She was a child, a teenager...she was shaped by her environment and the choices of those around her, still too young to separate her father's feelings from her own yet old enough to be expected to.

"Lucy, why did you tell Leo that your father came back to the hotel late the night Fort disappeared?"

"I didn't plan to," she admitted, between wiping her eyes and choking on her sobs. "He was just talking on and on about Fort going missing and all I could think was that if….if I didn't have a dad anymore my Mom would have no choice but to take me back." She looked up; regret and naivety making her seem years younger than she really was. "I know. It's horrible. _I'm _horrible. No wonder she doesn't want me."

Martin hoped he would never have to meet this mother of hers- he wasn't sure he would be able to contain himself from screaming at her that the faults of her husband were not that of her daughter.

Parents were supposed to love their children unconditionally, but somehow this was not always the case. You were obliged to make them proud of you; they had expectations from the moment you were conceived, expectations they may never mention but that you knew existed, that you knew you had to fulfil. Children could find themselves choosing a career they did not want, subscribed to a religion they did not believe in, supporting a political avenue they did not agree with, all simply to be loved by their mothers and fathers.

Parents said they wanted their children, but in reality, many of them just wanted younger, more attractive clones to mold in their own image.

The lengths a child would go to make a parent happy was no surprise- until you had recognition and pride from the people who created you, you would always fall short. Or at least this is what kids with no other role models thought.

Lucy would make up an elaborate story; confess lies about the father she loved, if only to gain an unattainable foothold in her mother's heart. Martin himself had spent his life set in heavy denial about his sexuality, just to avoid disappointing his parents yet again.

"Your father didn't have blood on his hands that night, did he, Lucy?" He, gently as possible, pressed.

Slowly, she shook her head. Then, she looked up at Martin, frantic. "I'll tell Leo I lied. I promise, I'll go to every single protest there is. I'll do anything you want me to, just don't tell my dad."

_I'll go to every single protest there is. _Even now, with Martin- or Matt, rather, the only person she really had trusted- she was trying to please.

"Lucy-"

"I didn't mean it," she insisted, eyes wide and begging. "I love my dad. I do. If you tell him...he'll never forgive me... I can't lose him too. _Please_, Matt."

He had known this, of course, which was why he had told Danny not to tell Jack. Still, hearing it, in her broken voice, was enough to make Martin positive that this time she really was telling the truth.

"I won't...I promise," he said, and then he was digging the handkerchief out of his awful-suit pocket and handing it to her. "I'll talk to Leo. This doesn't have to go any further."

The relief on her features was enough to assure him he had done, or said, the right thing this time- even if that was beyond rare for him.

~.o0o.~

The debate was much the same as the previous one had been, except this time, children as young as four were paraded in front of the reporters to highlight the innocent minds being tainted by homosexuality.

Martin had not counted on this bothering him nearly as much as it in fact did. It was the conversation with Lucy on the way that had set him on edge, of that he was certain.

As Pressler spoke- and Martin stood five feet away, gun hooked to his belt- Martin stole glances at the kids who would no doubt grow up to be straight, not necessarily because it was how they really felt or what they really wanted.

Martin found it beyond ironic that acceptance and love was frowned upon yet hatred was preached in the ears of these children- wondered just how the cycle could ever be broken with parents like those surrounding him continuing to maintain their narrow-minded ideals for others to live by.

Ten minutes in, Martin noticed Danny was not with the group, was not anywhere that he could see. Had something happened on the way here? Was he alright? Did he find it all too much to listen to Pressler's words?

It wasn't until halfway through that he noticed Danny slip back in, take his seat next to a distracted Kevin. It was not a half hour later that the door to the large conference room was opened, and in came Jack and Vivian, a flurry of heated whispers descending among the room.

Pressler did not stop talking, but Martin did notice his lips quirk into a smug smirk, like perhaps he already knew the reason they were here...like perhaps he was mocking them.

Martin looked to Danny, who mouthed, "_I'm sorry_," as the senior agents approached the row the group was sitting.

Lucy looked over at him, tears already in place when she recognised the badges. Martin watched Jack quietly say something that obviously horrified Kevin. "Are you insane?" he demanded, and calm was quickly turning to chaos as Pressler stepped back from the podium, allowing everyone's attention to draw to the scene in the third row. "You can't arrest me!"

Martin's mind was swimming with a million thoughts at once. Why had Danny called them, after promising Martin he wouldn't? What exactly had he told them? Would this jeopardize the entire operation, all for nothing, because Kevin was innocent?

Jack grabbed a hold of Kevin, escorting him outside, Viv held a now-much-too-hysterical Lucy back, followed quickly by the entire group, onlookers and the press. Martin stood still, stuck in position, unable to move until Pressler himself turned to him.

"It looks like your group need you," he suggested, an excuse omitting Martin from duties as security member for the time being. He stumbled outside, into the corridor where a crowd was being held back by court sheriffs.

Martin managed to squeeze his way through them, out of the building and into the car park, where Kevin was being forced in Jack's car.

Jack was careful not to acknowledge his added presence, but Vivian's gaze hovered on him for a second too long, her motherly concern kicking in as per usual.

No one noticed, of course, they were much too busy demanding Kevin be unhandcuffed this second.

"Daddy!" Lucy howled from Brooke's arms as Jack shut the door. She managed to break free from the woman's embrace to pull at the already-locked door, claw at the window, tears rolling down her father's cheeks to mirror her own.

Vivian looked sympathetic- Jack simply grunted and climbed into the driver's seat. "You can't come in the car with us, I'm afraid." She looked up from Danny to Martin, who were most definitely the most helpless looking people there. "Perhaps one of you could follow behind with her?"

"I don't want them!" Lucy screamed, "I don't want them to have anything to do with me! This is all their fault!"

The rest of the group were much too engrossed in the attention from the press that this had brought them to consider Lucy's words, to attempt to make sense of what she was accusing, but that did not make it any easier on Martin.

"Lucy-" he began, ignoring Danny's hand on his arm, shaking it off- this presence that had just this morning been a comfort now unwelcome and unwanted. "I didn't-"

But she was crying too loud for his words to be heard, screaming incoherent sentences strung together by anger. Brooke was bundling her into her own car, Jack's gone before Martin could blink, a sickening realization only now hitting him that it was Danny who had called them, Danny who had made him look like the ultimate betrayer, Danny who had doubted his great conviction that Kevin had not hurt Fort.

Without considering what it might look like, he turned to Danny. "How _could_ you?"

"Let me explain," Danny was begging, desperate, chasing after Martin as he went back inside, away from the traitor so willing to send an innocent man to prison in order to close this case.

"Leave me alone," Martin demanded, shaking him off again, furious. At some point, he managed to loose Danny in the crowd, too blinded by his anger to even notice. Without checking in with Pressler or any of the others, he hailed a cab by the side of the road, determined to fix Danny's terrible mistake.


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter may seem a little scattered, but I'm going to go right ahead and blame that on Danny's blurry train of thought (what an excuse) also not a lot of actual advancement in plot but I'm getting to that and wanted to put something like this in rather than not upload anything until the dramatic stuff is more concrete.**

**Thank you for compliments, reviews and just generally continuing to support us and this story. It means so much to know you are enjoying it and you guys are the biggest encouragement there ever could be for writing a fic! **

* * *

Danny was exasperated. "Will you just listen? _Please_?"

"Why should I? _You _clearly don't listen to _me._"

"Oh come on, it's not like-"

"-_My_ case," Martin stopped dead in his tracks. Danny watched as he pointed to himself, emphasising it was not Danny's place to interfere. "You said you were only there to help; to do as _I _say because I'm not incapable."

"I never said you were-" and it was no use, really, because Martin did not want to discuss this he wanted to blame Danny which was just fine- hell, it was practically a _tradition_ by now- except it made them both look damn suspicious should someone from the group stumble across this little brawl. "Can we just stop this? If you're not going to hear me out-"

"Hear you out? What is there to hear? I told you I was handling it; I told you Lucy was lying, but instead of supporting my judgement like you promised you would, you went over my head to Jack and made me look incompetent _and _over-involved." Martin was seething and it made Danny more than just a little nervous.

"Hey, _I'm _not the one making you look over-involved. You're doing a pretty good job of that yourself." Perhaps not the wisest thing to say but nothing he did was ever good enough for Martin so why start now?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Boys, boys!" Vivian took a step between them and Danny had not even realised she was in the corridor listening. "That's enough. Martin- nobody thinks you're incompetent, but you should have been honest from the start...we're a team, remember? Danny- you did the right thing calling Jack, but you shouldn't have gone behind Martin's back when we explicitly stated you weren't supposed to step on any toes."

Frustrated and exhausted, Danny threw his hands up in defeat. "Is _nobody_ going to ask me why I did it?"

"It doesn't matter," Vivian cut in, folding her arms across her chest. "We didn't send you two out there together to kill each other: we sent both of you because we figured you'd have a better chance of solving it that way." She shot them both a cutting glare. "Now were we wrong, or do you boys think you can suck it up and act like grown-ups again?"

Danny returned Martin's pout with one of his own. "Fine," they reluctantly agreed in unison.

Jack was interviewing Kevin, although by now they all knew from Martin that it was a waste of time. Lucy was down the hall, in the break room, with Brooke and a social worker.

"Whatever you do, remember that you're both as confused as to what's going on as the next person. You don't know your way around this floor; you've never met us before. Got it?"

She made a fair point, no need to jeopardize the operation any more than it already had been.

Danny nodded. "Got it."

Martin didn't reply, simply looked away, but Viv knew she wouldn't dare blow this.

"Can I leave you two to play nice?" Patronising and condescending and very Vivian, not even waiting for a response before continuing down the hall.

When they were alone again, Danny almost bit his tongue off before the angsty silence became too much for him. "I'm sorry," he said.

Martin looked up darkly. "You should be."

"I didn't mean to upset you...I meant it when I said I wanted to let you handle this," Danny said honestly, but his words were falling on deaf ears, and he knew it. "Then this morning, after you and Lucy left, I was putting pickets and stuff in the back of Kevin's car. One minute, he was right beside me, the next I couldn't see him anywhere. It was only after I'd finished that I spotted him across the street, some woman with a pride flag painted on her cheek against the wall. I didn't hear what they were saying, but I'm sure he was threatening her."

Danny expected Martin to re-evaluate their entire conversation, to take back the rage he had directed to Danny, to apologise.

Instead, he ran his hand down his face and sighed heavily. "Lucy's mother. Or her girlfriend, maybe."

"Wait, _what_?" If he had been confused before, then he was positive what he currently felt substituted being planted into an alternate universe- one where his best friend wasn't his best friend while they worked a case together. "Lucy's mom is gay? Why didn't you tell me?"

"She told me in confidence."

"Bullshit. We're supposed to be working this case together, you can't withhold information from me just because you're feeling entitled!" He snapped.

Martin glared. "I didn't think it was important, okay?"

"Well if you'd told me, we wouldn't be _here _now, would we?" Blaming Martin did not come as easily to him as he thought, but it was better than taking 100% of the blame for this himself.

Samantha appeared at the top of the corridor having stepped out of the tech room. "A body was brought in two nights ago- it's a possible match," she called down to them before returning to the room.

Danny wanted to groan aloud at her piss-poor timing.

"A match for who?" Martin asked, tone so steady and challenging it almost made Danny flinch and suddenly they were making eye contact again and Danny really wished they weren't.

"They've been double-checking morgues-"

"-Danny, a match for _who?_" His voice was less controlled, a sharper edge to it now.

Stupid Samantha and her desire to involve them.

"Fort's," Danny admitted, and he watched in gut-wrenching hurt as Martin sank down in one of the chairs that lined the corridor.

"There is no evidence to suggest Jackson's dead?" Martin stated, but it was much more of a desperate question. He looked up at Danny weakly, seeking reassurance.

Except Danny had already lied enough. "There's no evidence to say he's alive, either," said gently, but he knew that didn't ease the blow all that much.

"How long have they been looking for a body?"

Danny shrugged. "A few days."

Martin was up from the chair and in Danny's face within seconds. Being so close threw Danny off balance- he reached behind for the wall to steady himself. "What the hell, man-"

"You didn't tell me?" Martin was pissed and this was not good because last night had they not finally been honest with each other- even if it was only via text message? "You tried to make me feel guilty for not telling you something Lucy told me _in confidence _when all this time you've been hiding the very _status _of the investigation?"

"Nothing is definite," Danny mumbled, but his protest was half-hearted. He had known not being completely honest with Martin would come back to bite him- he had known it wasn't fair to keep _any _information- no matter how genuine his intentions had been for withholding it- from his friend, his colleague, his partner.

"What else aren't you telling me?" Martin demanded. "Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

There were too many things Danny wasn't being open about, so many things that Martin _should _know but that he could not bring himself to tell. Not wishing to add another lie to the ever-growing list, Danny swallowed hard and ducked his head. He stayed silent.

"How do you expect me to trust you when you pull shit like this?" Martin shook his head, looking away in anger. "I'm trying to let you in...but the second I do you pull away."

"'Trying to let me in'? Is _that _what you call the other night?" Shouldn't be bringing it up, should have forgotten all about it by now- like he had not been replaying the chance he could have taken in his mind since then. "Because it didn't feel like you trusted me- rather the opposite, actually. It felt like you were just trying your luck, testing what it would take to control me; testing how easy I was."

Martin's cheeks were rosy with the embarrassment remembering he had wanted Danny to spend the night with him obviously brought. He looked ashamed; he looked offended. Martin's mouth fell open and he took a step back- just as he did, a wave of air from a nearby fan caught the cologne he was wearing, directed it to Danny- an all-too familiar scent, one Martin did not use very often obviously, because the last time Danny had smelt it it had been mixed with blood and fear. "Why are you being like this?"

A good question, actually, but Danny's heart was beating too fast again and his hands were shaking and he could taste bile on his tongue. The walls around him seemed to close in, his breathing altered. He was blinking and blinking but there was startling scarlet on Martin's suit, seeping through his shirt at the place Danny had once felt a heartbeat, and no matter how furiously he wished it wasn't it was still there, each time he opened his eyes.

Martin only now seemed to realise the conversation had taken a turn. "What?" and maybe he said more but Danny didn't hear it- he had covered his ears so he wouldn't have to hear the gunshots replayed. "Danny-?"

Martin's hand on his arm, but Danny's muscles were seizing in shock and helplessness, slick sweat on his face and it was too late, he was too far gone- Martin was going to bleed to death and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

A door slammed shut across the parking lot- or was it closed gently further up the corridor? Now and then, present and past, were blurring together- Danny didn't know where he was. The sound echoed loudly in his mind and he jumped, a delayed yet over-the-top reaction.

Martin's voice was blurring from concern to anger to desperation- one minute he was asking what was wrong, offering to get Vivian; the next, he was yelling again, words exchanged in haste days ago, _I thought you were on my side_; finally, he was begging Danny not to leave him as he struggled for what could be his final breaths.

Danny had to get out, had to get away from this situation, this man who had the power to reduce him to a total mess with a stupid argument and one single whiff of cologne.

He was backing away, shoving Martin from invading what little head space he had. With a mind that was still dizzy, his pulse still beating so hard he could not concentrate, Danny took off down the corridor.

~.o0o.~

"He's looking for you," Viv said, handing Danny a bottle of water.

She'd found him in the basement floor- knees pulled to his chest, back against the wall in the file room. Realising he was not going to get to his feet for her, she joined him.

He took a long sip of the warm water and forced a weak smirk. "I could use something stronger." She shot him a look that had him raising his hands in the air. "It was a joke."

"I know," she said, crossing her arms. "You just better keep it that way."

Danny snorted. "_Please_. Things aren't _that _bad." _Yet, _he wanted to add, but didn't.

"People have fallen off the wagon for a lot less," she reminded him. "I'm taking a wild stab here, so correct me if I'm way off the mark, but I'm going to guess you haven't been to see Dr Harris in a while. Am I right?"

He busied himself re-buttoning the shirt he had stripped off during the panic fit of suffocation when he threw himself in this too-small-for-breathing-correctly-room. "It wasn't helping."

"Odd. I don't remember Martin bursting into an interview insisting you were having some sort of meltdown while you were attending your scheduled sessions."

Danny groaned. "He _noticed_?"

Vivian shot him her finest '_bitch, please_' look and he ducked his head. "Uh, _yeah, _Danny. I think he noticed."

A much bigger issue struck Danny then. "Shit. What interview was it?"

Viv shrugged. "It was another witness- nobody who knew either of you."

But it could just as easily have been Kevin or Lucy.

"I'm sorry." Resting his head against the wall, Danny shut his eyes tight. "I didn't mean to go off like that."

"No one thinks you did it on purpose, Danny." She was trying to be reassuring, to make him feel better, but of course it was in vain. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He wondered how long it would take for her to ask. Surely three minutes was a new record. "Not really."

"If Martin was going through something that was hurting him, wouldn't you want him to tell you?" An innocent question by somebody who did not know he had overheard Martin's own 'breakdown' the previous day.

"There's nothing he can do about this," Danny said- and it _was _the truth. If he was reliving what happened- and what _could _have happened- the night Martin almost died, then there was no solution that Martin could provide. Danny had to figure it out on his own; deal with it like a man.

"Telling him what's going on might help you understand it." Her hand was on his, and at first he jumped because his eyes were still closed and in the darkness she might have been a dying Martin, clinging to him for life, but then he opened them and it was only Vivian, trying to comfort him as usual. "If you won't talk to Harris, and you won't talk to me, then I think Martin's exactly the person to help you."

"Because he keeps secrets too?" He hadn't meant to say this aloud but here it was anyway- honesty the flavour of the day.

Viv blinked. "_Meaning_?"

"Meaning I thought we told each other everything," he blurted out, and when she raised an eyebrow, he blushed. "Well, _almost _everything."

"If you know something that he's been trying to tell you then maybe you ought to clue him in. I'm sure it would be a load off his mind."

Danny laughed. "You talk about Martin like he's a normal, rational person. If I told him that I'm onto him he'd probably flip out and claim I've been taking advantage."

She smiled a little at that, but then she shook her head. "I know you don't think laying it all out there will help either of you right now, but really, what's the alternative? You're at each other's throats like a pair of ill-reared pups. Don't you think anything is worth trying?"

He could picture the conversation: _Martin, I overheard you tell Viv you're bi. I know you're in love with me and too terrified of what people might think if you admit it. Oh, and the night I almost lost you tortures me in flashbacks every single day, but if I can't fix us and I can't fix you then maybe I don't want to be fixed either. _

Martin would be gone so fast Danny would not even have time to finish.

"I'll consider it," he lied, but he could tell her patience with him was wearing thin.

"It's not easy watching you two skate around each other and not being able to bang your heads together."

He got to his feet, knowing if he did not move on from this he would end up having another panic attack. He held his hand out to help her up and then attempted to change the subject. "How's Lucy?"

"Cursing Leo and Matt," Vivian said dryly, aware he was being skittish and obviously dissatisfied with it. "Martin took over talking to her so I could come find you."

"And Kevin?"

She shook her head. "Martin was right- he _is _innocent. Even if Lucy were to give an official statement against him, he has an alibi for the night Fort disappeared."

"Alibi?"

"He was talking on the hotel phone to his ex-wife for almost two hours while Lucy and the others were downstairs at dinner."

The ex-wife. Lucy's mother. "Dammit."

She nodded. "It's not your fault. At least it's shaken them up a little bit- maybe next time he won't be quite so heavy-handed with a woman."

Danny didn't doubt it- after all, Kevin probably wasn't a wife beater...just a gay-basher. Regardless, he wondered how Lucy was coping. "What did you tell Lucy? About me?"

"Martin's handling it," Viv explained, and Danny tried to pretend that was somewhat reassuring.


	16. Chapter 16

**Martin POV, hope you enjoy and wow, thank you for the lovely reviews last week. I felt really insecure about that last chapter so they honestly meant so much! You guys sure know how to make my day. **

**Ominous cliffhanger at the en of this chapter in honor of Halloween, have a great one wherever you are!x **

* * *

"Which one of you did it?" She was angry- and rightfully so, but that did not make Martin feel any less uneasy.

"Lucy-" He had never been very successful at choosing the right words to say: even when he was honest he only seemed to make things worse- the way he'd upset Danny earlier was evidence of this, surely.

"How did you get the freaking FBI involved anyway?" Lucy demanded, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.

"Jackson's a missing person," Martin explained. "This unit finds missing people," he added as an afterthought, "I think."

She narrowed her eyes. "You promised me you wouldn't tell anybody."

"-I didn't!" Too late he realised it was a trap as she clasped her hands together like she'd won.

"So it _was _Leo," Lucy said.

He was supposed to deny it or try and convince her otherwise, but Martin didn't know how. Her mind was already made up- she was stuck in her teenage desire to blame somebody other than herself for what had happened to her father. If it made it easier for her to deal with, if it would prevent further tears, Martin couldn't do anything to stop her blaming Danny.

Especially because he wasn't here to defend himself.

He didn't know what was going on with Danny, only that Viv assured him she would sort it. That was intended to comfort him, but it didn't- Viv hadn't seen the wildness in Danny's eyes, the haze of confusion as he blinked furiously like he didn't know where he was, the way he backed away from Martin like one of them was on fire.

Vivian had never failed to talk Danny down before, but this felt different. Martin doubted it was simply the case that was getting to him; it seemed unlikely it was problem with Danny's brother. That left Martin unsure of just what had pushed Danny so far off the edge to that point he had never seen him before, in all of their years of friendship.

"He shouldn't have gotten involved," Lucy fumed, folding her arms.

"_You _shouldn't have lied," he countered, because despite everything she was the one person he was still being somewhat honest with. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Does my dad know it was me?" Her hands were shaking now, and Martin felt a pang of sympathy for her. She said something horrible in a moment of haste and it had the potential to ruin her life.

Martin shook his head. "You're a minor. We-_they _aren't allowed to disclose your identity."

She looked down at the ground. "Do _I _have to tell him?"

Honesty was the best policy- that's what everybody insisted. But that in itself was a lie: sometimes, honesty only made things worse. Sometimes honesty tore relationships apart, made parents hate their children, drove best friends to the brink of resentment.

"I don't think it would hurt your Dad to live his life without knowing," Martin admitted.

"What if Leo tells him?"

The chances of _Leo _even being allowed to continue with the case after the incident in the hallway seemed increasingly unlikely in Martin's eyes. "He won't."

Samantha chose this moment to poke her head around the door. "Uh, can I speak to you a minute?"

Not exactly helping to portray the lack of relationship between him and the members of the team, but thankfully Lucy was too preoccupied stirring her vending machine hot chocolate to properly acknowledge this as contradictory.

Martin followed Sam into the hallway, stopping dead in his tracks when he spotted Jack with his hand on the shoulder of Fort's boyfriend, Sean Maguire.

Sean stood shakily, and Martin was sure that he had lost weight since the last time he had seen him, mere days ago. "What's he doing here?" A second too late he remembered what had caused him to yell at Danny- the unidentified body in the morgue.

He expected to feel something upon remembering, upon seeing Sean's reaction- horror, shock, nausea.

The numbness that plagued him was much worse.

"He took a look at the image we had of the body," Samantha explained, just as Vivian and a far-too-cheery-Danny rounded the corner. "It's not Fort."

Both Viv and Danny let out sighs of relief, but Martin just nodded. It _was _good that they hadn't found Jackson's body...but that didn't mean it wasn't still out there, and they were no closer to solving the case.

"Jackson's sister just flew in-we're headed downstairs to interview her," Sam added, "You guys think you can keep an eye on him for a while? Lucy and Kevin aren't ready to leave yet anyway."

It took Martin a minute to realise she meant him and Danny. "Uh, sure."

"No problem," Danny agreed, but neither made an effort to move.

"We'll leave you boys to it," Sam announced, motioning for Viv to follow her as she took off down the corridor.

Viv didn't follow immediately, though. She looked from Danny to Martin and then back again, a reluctance in her eyes. Part of Martin prayed she would give into her maternal instincts and stay with them.

"I'll be in the tech room if you need me," she said finally, hesitating just once more and forcing eye contact with both of them- a warning?- before turning away.

~.o0o.~

Danny bought Sean a coffee from the machine while Martin attempted to make sense of the distressed mumblings of the slowly-breaking man.

"I can't- I should have...but I didn't- I didn't _know_-"

Shock, Martin assumed, knowing full well that just because the image of a body was not the one you expected did not mean it was not any easier to stomach.

"-Hey, buddy," Danny voice, gentle as he eased into the seat on the other side of Sean with the polystyrene cup. "It's alright."

Martin found it beyond ironic that Danny was being the ultimate reassurance right now considering the way he had reacted not forty-minutes ago. Almost as ironic as the fact that, of the three of them in that moment, Martin was the most emotionally stable.

Surely that had to be a first.

They still had not had the chance to talk about…whatever happened with Danny, what with Sean Maguire between them like the wall diving a dangerous prisoner and his visitor. Martin was supremely thankful all the same; Danny's text from the night before burning a hole in his heart and brain as he tried to think of something he could say to match them, knowing no words he himself could conjure would compare.

After some careful convincing, Sean calmed down enough to take the cup from Danny and sip at it tentatively, before turning back to Martin. "There's something I need to t-tell you."

"Oh yeah?" Martin couldn't imagine anything would be of help this late in the investigation, but if it meant Sean could focus his pent-up energy on something other than sobbing it was of use to them right in that moment.

"The night Jax-the night before he went missing he got a phone call. I don't know who it was from; we were arguing so he wouldn't have told me even if I'd had the nerve to ask."

"A phone call?" Danny prompted.

Sean nodded grimly. "I don't know what they wanted from him, but he was begging them to stop calling. At the time I thought it was just another threat from one of Pressler's men...but now I'm not so sure."

"What's with the sudden change of heart?" Martin asked, wary that a lonely man's mind was playing in overdrive the things he could have done; creating false leads were there weren't any.

"It was something else he said...that he was _sorry_. It wasn't sarcastic, but it was so unusual, you know?" Sean looked up, eyes wide and genuine. "Jax doesn't apologise. _Ever."_

Danny snorted as if to say _reminds me of someone else, _and Martin had to focus all his concentration on not looking up.

"Why didn't you say anything about this before?"

"I already know what it looks like. A gay politician...what a great combination, right? Like the world needs more of either. I just didn't want to give you another reason to give up on looking for him...especially not because he's in trouble or something." Maguire rubbed his hands together, nervous. "I guess I felt guilty too. I didn't want to admit that Jax needed me- that he got himself into something stupid, that he did something wrong- but I didn't step up."

Martin looked up in the same moment that Danny did; blue eyes finally meeting brown and unable to look away. "There was nothing you could have done," Martin said, wanting to reassure Maguire, but the second he said the words Danny had broken their gaze- like Martin was talking directly to him and he didn't believe it at all.

"That's bullshit. I could tell there was something up but I did nothing. I didn't want to embarrass myself so I kept my mouth shut." Sean buried his head in his hands. "I let him down."

Martin realised it then- Danny needed his help, maybe as much as he wanted to pretend he _didn't_ need Danny's. He still didn't know what was going on with the other man, but it shouldn't matter _what _it was, even if he was sure Danny wasn't going to tell him-what mattered was what Martin could do to make things better.

"Do you have any idea who it might have been on the phone to Jackson?" Danny's voice, breaking him from his attempts at solving the puzzle that was _them_. "Any idea at all?"

Sean hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you."

Danny nodded. "We can take another look at the call history- it's alright." He patted Sean's arm, and Martin surprised himself that he was the slightest bit jealous for a second.

It almost made him laugh...except now was not the time to be laughing, with Danny still a shade too pale and Sean Maguire's tears still damp on his cheeks- but it also made him feel like a petulant child, like he wasn't ready to be touched intimately by Danny but that he didn't want anyone else to be either, regardless of how innocent it was.

"We'll be right back," Danny said, rising to his feet, leaving Jack's office briskly and no doubt expecting Martin to follow.

"Can we talk?" Martin asked the very second the door was shut. "Five minutes?"

Danny's smile was an inch too-wide and that was when Martin realised Danny wasn't even going to pretend not to understand what he meant. "Everything's fine. I think it must have been something I ate- I hear there's some stomach flu going around?"

Complete and utter bullshit, of course, because no stomach flu ever made somebody look at their best friend like he were about to disappear, but Martin knew he had no right to push- not when he was so effortlessly dodging the questions of his sexuality each time they arose.

Martin leaned forward, close enough so that only Danny could hear what he had to say next. "You know you can talk to me, _right_?"

For a splinter of second Martin wasn't sure if Danny was going to laugh or cry. "Sure thing," he said, shaky smile still in place. "I'm going to run the call log again. You wanna check on Lucy?"

It was a rhetorical question, one Danny was not prepared to wait for an answer to. He took off down the hall again, the opposite direction to the bullpen, towards the men's toilets.

He wanted to follow, knowing unless he forced Danny into a corner he would be no closer to figuring out what was going on with him. Despite what he wanted though, he didn't: because it felt too much like catching a mouse in a trap, because Danny still thought Martin was playing this like a game- _testing to see how easy he was_- because this was serious, and Martin wasn't prepared for serious after a day like today.

Because there was a difference between helping somebody because you cared, and helping them to make yourself feel better.

~.o0o~

Lucy was growing impatient with waiting. "Why can't I see my dad? When can we go home? I'm _hungry, _Matt."

He dialled Vivian's number, pretending it was her father's, and put it on speakerphone. After five minutes of exchanged _are you sure you're alright?'_sand one-sided _no, Dad, I have no idea who did this, _it was announced Kevin would be released in a half hour. To kill time, Martin brought Lucy to the cafeteria, wincing a little as a familiar agent from the floor above nodded his way in recognition.

"Why do people act like that around you?" Lucy asked, digging her fork into her fruit cup.

"Like what?" Martin replied, feigning innocence as best he could manage when surrounded by food.

"Like...they know who you are. Like you're somebody they respect."

Martin wanted to laugh out loud: nobody here respected him. Pitied him, perhaps, but definitely did not respect him. Not that he could really blame them: a drug addict and an eternal screw-up, just what had he done to earn anyone's respect? "They really don't."

"Leo does." She made a point of looking up at him. "I don't know what the deal is there but I think he likes you."

"_Excuse_ me?" Martin almost choked on his chocolate milk.

Lucy's eyes were filled with mischief, and he was so relieved after all the earlier tears that he wasn't even a little angry with her. "You know what I mean."

"Lucy?" Elena's voice, interrupting, as she appeared in front of them. "Your father's ready to leave now."

Lucy hopped up, grabbing her hoodie from the back of her chair. "See you at the hotel," she said, smirking as she followed Elena out of the cafeteria.

_Aw shit_, Martin thought.

~.o0o.~

"Lucy thinks you like me." Why had he blurted that out over coffee as they sat alone in the tech room? Perhaps the worst ice-breaker in the entire world and Danny just laughed it off which did not help _at all_.

"Dammit, am I _that _obvious?" he teased, skimming lists of numbers in Fort's contacts.

"I'm serious. _And _she has it in for you. Do you see where this has the potential to go?" Maybe the stupidest thing he had said all day because Danny turned to him with a scowl.

"Scared she'll out you in front of your new friends?"

Martin hated conversations like these- the accusation, the resentment, the undertones of something they weren't ready to acknowledge. All he wanted was to scream, '_What do you want from me?' _but he was terrified that if he did, Danny might have an actual answer for him, an actual request...one he would no doubt fail to fulfil.

"Actually, I'm concerned it might jeopardize our position in the case."

Without looking up, Danny asked, "Is that _all _you care about?" He didn't understand why Danny was being so snappy, so agitated. It had been a shitty day and they were both tired, desperate to wrap up dead ends and head back to the hotel... but the others still weren't back so they _couldn't_. Still, Danny was being irrational, like he _wanted _Martin to just give in and demand answers.

"You _know _it isn't-"

"-What time would the apology call have been?" Danny interrupted, flipping the printed pages over yet again- this time looking like he knew what he was looking for.

"Uh," Martin stole a glance at the makeshift timeline set up in the small room, now that the one in the bullpen had been taken over by a more glamorous case Vivian was working- a young Caucasian girl, taken from her school gates. "Well, Maguire left the apartment around eleven fifteen so...not long before that."

"22:54?" Danny asked. "The last call of the night that Fort answered. Came from a home phone in...Queens?"

_Queens_. _Queens_. _Who lived in Queens?_ "What's the number?"

As Danny called it out to him Martin searched for it in the database, finding a result quickly. When he clicked on it, he sat back in his chair. "This can't be it. What was the call before that?"

"It was the first one he answered since he got home from work- he and Maguire didn't start fighting until after dinner. It has to be that one." Danny twisted his head to get a look at the screen. "Who's the phone registered to?"

Reluctantly, Martin titled the screen to allow Danny to view the name and picture on it.

"Catherine Fort," Danny read aloud. "Jackson's _mother_?"


End file.
